Patronize
by Howlcastle
Summary: A multi fic story about Ron honing his Partonus to protect the person who he thinks needs it most. It begins at the end of OOTP and continues through to the end of HBP from Ron's POV. contains spoilers, some horror and Weasley antics, of course!
1. Part One

Part one

Ron Wealsey watched his best friend, Harry Potter, troop away from the platform with the Dursley's in tow. Lupin and Moody stood nearby as they glared at the back of Mr. Dursley's head for good measure. He hoped that Harry would be allowed to come back to the Burrow soon. He always felt guilty about enjoying the holidays when he knew Harry was having such a bad time.

He looked to his left and saw Hermione standing next to her parents, sadly watching Harry go. Mr. and Mrs. Granger looked lost and overwhelmed as his father talked animatedly to them about ekeltricity. Ron rolled his eyes - his Dad would never give up his Muggle obsession, not even in an oncoming war, he thought.

A war. Because that's what it was. Sirius was the second casualty of the fresh wave of evil that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was mustering. He looked towards the girl who he had sworn in the Department of Mysteries that he would protect above all else. Harry had so many people that would be at his side until the end, but she only had him. He knew it wasn't much, but he would protect her the best he could. Hermione looked his way and gave him a small smile which fortified him. He had failed her this time, but he wouldn't again.

Hermione looked so little, he thought, as he watched her turn and say her goodbyes to his parents and Ginny. He was used to the tough, no nonsense girl who made everyone cower with her temper and sharp intellect. Ever since the skirmish in the Department of Mysteries she'd been more quiet and withdrawn. He knew she'd been hurt pretty badly; they had both been in the hospital wing together for days afterwards, but he knew that Sirius dying had been more of a blow to her than she let on.

Hermione ended her embrace with Ginny, said a curt goodbye to Fred and George and then approached him. They stood in front of each other, Ron with his arms awkwardly at his sides, and Hermione with her hands clasped in front of her.

"Goodbye Ron," she said, looking up at him with tears in her eyes. "Make sure you write up that prefect duty roster, won't you?"

Ron laughed, which, he was pleased to note brought a smile to her face as well. "I'll probably wait for you to turn up at the Burrow, so then we can work on it together."

"If you mean by together, just me, then you can forget it," she said, hands on hips and a mischievous smile on her face.

There she is, he thought, the girl that I know so well. The girl that I love.

"It's time to go, Hermione," said Mr. Granger from behind her.

"Well, goodbye then," she smiled. "Take care of yourself, Ron, and don't get into trouble."

"Me? Never," he grinned as she looked up at him.

They stood there for a couple of minutes just looking at each other, the conversation unfinished, though neither of them seemed able to end it.

"C'mon, Ickle Ronnikins, we've got to be back at work in a minute," grumbled Fred.

"Right," Ron said, fighting his body's impulse to hold on to Hermione and keep her safe. "Bye, Hermione."

His heart jumped as he thought for a second she was going to kiss him on the cheek like she had before his Quidditch match, but she hesitated, patting his arm instead.

The charge in the air around them was just incredible, and before he knew it he was hugging her.

"I won't let anything happen to you, ok? Ever," he whispered into her hair. He couldn't believe how right this felt, how well they fit together, and he was pleased to note that she was hugging him back just as desperately. The feel of her arms pulling him to her soft chest was divine.

Some wolf-whistles pulled them both back into reality and they jumped apart.

"Shut up," Ron growled to his gleeful brothers.

"Write me, Ron" Hermione called as she walked away from him with her parents on either side.

I'll do better than that, Ron thought determinedly. I'll do everything I can for you, Love.

"Um, Professor Lupin, can I have a word with you, please?" he asked the greying, tattered man who stood quietly talking to Tonks by the platform sign.

"Of course, Ron, and it's just Remus now," he smiled, turning to Ron.

"Err, would you be able to teach me the patronus charm like you did with Harry? I mean, he tried teaching it to us in the DA, and a lot of people got theirs to work, but all I could produce was a wisp of silver smoke," he rambled. "But I really need to learn it, Professor, err, Remus. It's important."

"You wish to be able to protect your friends?" Asked Remus solemnly.

"Yeah. Something like that. I feel like I just let them down so badly in the Department of Mysteries. I won't let it happen again," he said firmly, crossing his arms over his chest to quell the echo of pain that was coming from his scars.

"I'm afraid Ron, that I can't teach you. Dumbledore has a job for me," he began sadly, "I don't think I'll be able to correspond with you from where I'm going."

"Is it for the Order? Where are you going? What do you have to do?"

Remus waved the questions away with his hand, "You know I can't tell you anything, Ron, but what I can tell you is that if Harry taught you how to do the Patronus Charm, then you know all you need to. All you are probably lacking is a strong happy memory or thought, and maybe a little practice." He smiled warmly, and Ron tried to think positively on what his old professor had told him.

"Thanks, Sir. Err, Remus," he stumbled. "I'll keep trying. I have to."

"You can do it, Ron," Remus said, patting his shoulder.

"Oi! Ron, you better get over here, or else we're leaving you behind," yelled George who stood over with his twin, their gaudy dragon hide pants clashing loudly with the poster on the wall behind them.

"Good luck, Professor," Ron said to Remus as he headed for his family.

"Best of luck, Ron," Remus nodded as he in turn headed off after the odd band of aurors who were now exciting platform nine and three quarters.


	2. Part Two

Part Two

Ron Weasley reached out of bed and knocked the ornate alarm clock to the ground. This only seemed to intensify it's shrill ringing, the hammer becoming a blur as it beat the small copper bells. Ron scowled, threw off his covers and got out of bed, kicking the clock purposely in the process before stooping to pick it up and turning the key to off.

Five AM. No wonder he felt like rubbish. He usually didn't come alive until at least nine. He sat on his bed and rubbed his eyes trying to form a coherent thought.

Hermione. Protect. Patronus.

Slowly the cogs began to turn as he pulled a jersey and jeans on. He had devised a plan to help him protect Hermione. He would learn the Patronus Charm, and to do this he would sneak outside early every morning and practice. He'd thought about stealing one of the twin's wands to practice with – he wasn't 17 yet, and it was still illegal for him to use magic outside Hogwarts. He'd changed his mind however, when he figured that the ministry had enough to do at the moment without handing out warnings to nobodies from Ottery St. Catchpole.

He tied his shoes and stood and stretched. I've never been up at bloody five AM, he thought. Well...not since the World Cup anyway. His thoughts went back to that night; of the Death Eaters taunting the poor Muggle families, and this stiffened his resolve.

Picking up his wand he crept to the door of his creaky upstairs room and pulled it open slowly to avoid the tell tale squeak. Luckily all of the Weasley family were pretty heavy sleepers due to the constant squabbling, Fred and George's experiments and the noisy old ghoul in the attack.

He crept down the rickety stairs and stopped when he reached the kitchen. He hurriedly made a cup of tea, drank the scolding drink, and headed outdoors.

The velvety darkness he had woken up to was now beginning to lighten and everything was a dusky blue tinged with pink. He headed towards the shelter of the woodshed so he would be obscured from the house, though not too close to the actual shed. He knew it was full of spiders. He shuddered at the thought.

That won't help me think of a happy though, he berated himself. He tried to block out the image of Aragog's swarming children and think of a happy, patronus-worthy thought.

He focused on the Chudley Cannons, his favourite Quidditch team. He drew his wand and held it out, summoning a patronus with all his might.

"Expecto Patronum."

Nothing happened.

Ron scowled.

He screwed up his face, concentrating hard.

"Expecto Patronum!" He said, a little louder this time.

Nothing.

"Bollocks," he muttered into the dawn.

He tried to think of something, but was thrown off by the growl of his stomach. I wish I'd stuffed my pockets with some chocolate frogs, he thought dismally.

"Hey," he whispered. "Chocolate frogs..." He could see them in his mind's eye, nearly taste them.

"Expecto Patronum," he said firmly.

He thought he saw a slight wisp of something silver, but that may have just been some early morning light reflecting off a bead of water that hung in some nearby webbing.

He jumped back further from the woodshed. The light coming up over the trees illuminated the shed and he saw it was criss-crossed with webbing. He shuddered again, and decided it was a good time to call it quits for the day. He was very tired, and when he went to run his fingers through his hair absentmindedly he discovered that his fringe was stuck to his forehead with sweat.

He returned to the house at about a quarter to seven and was surprised to see Fred and George sitting at the breakfast table in their pyjamas as if waiting for him.

"Mornin', Ickle Ronnikins," said Fred through a mouthful of toast and jam

"Where've you been then?" asked George looking up from a copy of the Daily Prophet.

Ron shrugged in response as he sat down at the table and nicked a piece of Fred's toast. "Why are you guys up so early on a Saturday? I thought Lee worked on Saturdays?"

"Oi!" Said Fred making a vane attempt to regain his lost piece of toast.

"He does, " replied George. "It's just that this morning we were woken by what sounded like a metal bird being beaten with a brick."

Ron hid his blush by getting up from the table and cooking some fresh toast.

"And after that we heard the sound of your big paddles plodding down the stairs," added Fred. "What were you doing lurking behind the woodshed anyway?"

"None of your business," grumbled Ron. "Here," he said, throwing a piece of toast at Fred's head. "And my feet aren't that big!"

"And we aren't that smart, beautiful or charming," George smirked in a sarcastic voice which concluded the conversation.

The rest of the day turned into a right-off for Ron. Not long after breakfast the twins pulled a trick on their mother and Ron had been sentenced by association to a day of ridding the garden of gnomes.

He was glad to fall into bed at the end of the day, remembering first to wind the key of his battered alarm clock so it would hail him at five in the morning once more. He fell asleep almost at once, his last conscious thought was of Hermione.

_A big thanks to Alloy & most especially Howl. _


	3. Part Three

Part Three.

The next morning found Ron laying in bed already awake even before his alarm was due to go off. He had woken up around three AM, his mind turning tricks and circles over Hermione.

He knew that he cared very deeply about her. She was one of his best friends after all. There was something else though, a need to protect her from what was coming. A need to keep her safe. Oh, he knew she was quick-thinking and brave, but he also knew she would sacrifice herself for Harry, and he couldn't let that happen. She was too great. Too special.

I love her too much, that's what it comes down to, he thought gloomily. I love her too much to live without her – even if she doesn't feel the same, I'm a better person just standing next to her.

He had reached out of bed then and lit a lamp, found some parchment that was lying scrunched up on the floor and began to write.

_Dear Hermione_

Good start, he thought dismally. Now what?

He thought about how she had hugged him back at the train platform, and how she had been insistent that he write to her. Did this mean she did like him back? This was not the first time the thought had occurred to him. The kiss at his Quidditch game had sent him spiraling out of control into the realm of 'what ifs'. Even after all their fights their friendship remained, and had grown stronger over the years. Yet he still didn't know where he stood with her.

_Hope you are well._

That's pretty standard, can't go too wrong there.

_Things here are fine, but a bit boring, even though I've only been home a whole day really. The twins have already got into trouble and the three of us ended up de-gnoming the garden yesterday because Mum got in a strop. Gits. _

_Ginny's been keeping a low profile. I think she's locked up in her room writing to Dean. At least he's better than that Michael Corner, but I still don't like it. If Dean says one word to me about my little sister, he'll regret it!_

Uh oh, he thought. I don't want to rant too much, I know it annoys her, and it's pointless if I don't get to see her be angry. He smiled at the memory of her wild hair and pink cheeks as she yelled at him in defense of SPEW.

_Haven't seen much of Dad, Mum says he's been really busy with work. Haven't heard from Harry yet, have you? Hope he's doing ok. _

_That's it really. I've only been home one day, but you said to write, so I did. _

His hand hovered over the parchment as his heart dared him to sign 'Love Ron', but his brain won out and he finished with just his name.

He reread the letter, scowled at it, and left it rolled up on his bed stand while he reached for the clock. Quarter to four, it read. He took the key out of the back of the clock to disarm the alarm – he didn't want to risk the twins hearing it again.

After getting out of bed and stretching he pulled on some old clothes and searched for his trainers. One was under the bed beside some prodigious balls of fluff, the other he had flung absent mindedly on top of a stack of his Martin Miggs the Mad Muggle comics.

Ron grabbed a jacket, his wand, and left his room. He took particular care crossing the landing where Fred and George's room was on his way through the house. When he got outside he headed once again for the back of the woodshed, though perhaps a little further away this time.

Right, he thought. Time to do this! He thought about chocolate frogs again, hoping that the wisp of silver he'd seen yesterday was a good indicator of what was to come. He envisioned eating smooth, creamy chocolate frogs until his mouth was watering, then he held his wand at arm's length and spoke clearly into the night.

"Expecto Patronum."

A slight echo of silver snaked out of the wand and disappeared almost immediately.

Well, thought Ron, it's a start. He concentrated hard on the joyous feeling of devouring chocolate, tensing his body in anticipation.

"Expecto Patronum."

A more distinct shadow of silver whisked out of his wand, hovered for a couple of seconds and vanished. It had been roughly the shape and size of a loaf of bread.

"Weird," Ron muttered to the dawn, "What the hell kind of Patronus looks like a wriggly loaf of bread?"

Still, it was progress. He turned himself to the woodshed then, as if daring a spider to have a go. He squared himself to the shed door and held out his wand.

"Expecto Patronu...arrgh!" He cried, leaping a foot backwards as Fred and George tumbled out of the door, both holding their sides with mirthless laughter.

"Well," said Fred, holding his hands up in surrender, "you sure scared us, little brother."

"Shut up," Ron replied, extremely annoyed.

"Great Patronus there, Ickle Ronnikins," George chimed in. "You're the only person I've ever met with a slug patronus."

"But then we know how much you love slugs," grinned Fred.

"Piss off," growled Ron. He felt embarrassed now as well as annoyed. "It's not a bloody slug. It's not really anything yet. Now, either naff off, or shut up."

"Or what? You'll let us scare you again?" Laughed Fred.

"You should have seen your face when you were performing that charm. Woo!" said George, wiping his brow in mock disbelief. "Serious stuff!"

Ron didn't have an answer to that one, so he merely scowled at the twins and shuffled his feet in the grass.

"So this is what you were doing yesterday morning, was it?" Fred asked, in a more serious voice.

Ron merely nodded. "So are you going to leave me to it, or what?"

"Now, now, little bro," said George, "no need to get your knickers in a twist. Have you ever thought maybe your brothers could help you out?"

"You can do the Patronus charm?" asked Ron, half forgetting that he was annoyed.

"Of course! There's more to us than just good looks. Let's show him, George," said Fred.

"On the count of three then, twin. One, two, three!"

"Expecto Patronum!" Fred and George cried at once.

Two silver shapes emerged from their wands and flitted across the grass. Ron was surprised to see that they were very different.

"The kookaburra's mine," clarified Fred. "The hyaena belongs to George."

The twins beamed proudly at Ron as their silver guardians faded into the dawn.

Ron turned his gaze from the spot the patronus's had disappeared to his brothers. "A kooka-what?"

"The bird," declared Fred. "They live in Australia and have a distinctive laugh."

"They also are deadly to snakes. They pick them up and whack them against trees," added George. "And you do know what a hyaena is, right?"

"Kind of," said Ron. "They're sort of like laughing dogs, and they're scavengers, aren't they?"

"They're opportunists," said George proudly, "and cunning."

"So how'd you do it?" Ron asked excitedly. If his brothers could do it, then surely he could.

"Well, it's just like Harry taught us in the DA. It's all about finding a strong happy thought. If your happy thought is weak now, there's no way it'll stand up to a real challenge," Fred said firmly.

"What happy thought are you using, Ron?" asked George.

"Well, I've tried flying and the Chudley Cannons. This morning I was thinking of chocolate frogs, and it kind of worked."

"Like I said," Fred affirmed, "_kind of worked _won't cut it."

"Well, what's _your_ thought, then?" Ron barked, anger rising again.

"Our joke shop, of course," Fred said, pointing at his twin.

"Well, I don't have a bloody shop," growled Ron. "For years all _I've_ had is rubbish. Stuff that's been handed down through all my stupid brothers! In fact I've not had bloody _anything_ to my name except my broom and my prefect badge, and I tried them way back at the DA meeting."

"Surely you've forgotten something," Fred dismissed, obviously immune to his brother's explosive temper.

"Now, now, Forge. There is more to life than just _stuff_," said George.

"Right you are, Gred," Fred said, cottoning on. "Right you are..."

"What?" Ron said defensively. He couldn't help but feel that his brothers were sizing him up.

"Well, some people choose places," Fred nodded wisely.

"Or _people_," said George, tapping the side of his nose consiprationally with his index finger.

"We couldn't help but notice, could we, Gred, the rib crushing hug you gave Hermione at the train station."

Ron tried very hard not to flush pink, but it clearly wasn't working. He could feel his face heating up.

"I see we're onto something," smirked Fred.

"So, have you tried it?" asked George.

"WHAT?" Ron was horrified...how could his brother ask him _that!_ Hang on, he thought quickly. That's not what he meant, is it? "Err, no, I haven't," he finished lamely.

The damage was irreparable. Both twins were in fits of laughter, Fred nearly buckled over double.

"Shut up," Ron muttered, face glowing.

George seemed to recover himself more quickly than his twin. "Go on, then," he coaxed.

"Why don't _you_ go?" Ron said nastily.

"Now, now, Ickle Ronnikins. That's no way to talk to your elders," chuckled Fred. "Just suck it in and have a go, would you? We can't stand around all morning, you know. Some of us have work to go to."

"Fine then, if it'll get you to leave me alone," Ron grumbled. He stood firmly, facing away from the woodshed door and the twins. He closed his eyes and held out his wand.

Thoughts of Hermione came easily to him, as if they had been sitting in the wings waiting. Images of her face flooded his mind. Her smile, her sparkling, intelligent eyes - everything. He felt her arms hugging him to her soft chest, and her lips gently pressed to his cheek...

"Expecto Patronum!"

He felt a slight jolt that caused him to step backwards. He opened his eyes and saw a shape dash off into the sunrise. It was a brighter white than either of the twins charms had been, but was smaller than George's hyaena. Then, a few seconds later it was gone.

Ron stood looking at the place where his patronus had vanished with his jaw dropped. Sweat dripped down his neck and his arm shook. He lowered his wand, wiped his forehead and blinked into the sunlight.


	4. Part Four

Part Four

The sun was blinding him now as it peaked over the trees, the sky brilliant and blue. He stared again at the spot where his patronus had vanished. _His_ patronus. He turned around and faced his brothers.

Fred and George had never looked more alike. They were both stock still with identical looks of amazement and disbelief on their identical faces, their mouths gaping. Ron realized he must look equally silly with his jaw open and firmly closed his mouth. The twins mirrored him and shut their mouths. None of them said anything for a couple of minutes.

Ron tried to run over what had happened in his mind for future reference. He'd thought of Hermione. Of her hugging him tightly. It was so simple. His strongest happy thought was _her_.

And my patronus, Ron thought. What the hell _was_ that? It was so bloody fast...maybe it's a cheetah or something?

His thoughts were broken by Fred who broke the silence at last.

"Blimey," he whispered.

Ron grinned at him.

"We knew you fancied her," said George. "But we didn't know you _loved_ her."

"_What_?" said Ron. "I don't...she's just my best friend, that's all," he rattled off quickly.

"Oh c'mon," said Fred. "Pull the other one."

"We saw it," George added. "Hell, we were nearly blinded by it. We're not stupid, you know."

"Could've fooled me," growled Ron.

They stood looking at the space the patronus had been in silence for another minute.

"Do it again," whispered George. "It'll probably be better now that you know that you can do it."

"Yeah, we might be able to make out what it is," added Fred.

"Right," nodded Ron. He raised his wand and thought of Hermione, of her laughing face and the way the snowflakes decorated her hair in winter like stars in the sky. Of how her nose and cheeks would be rosy with the cold. How his heart beat faster when he looked at her. How his heart had raced when he'd hugged her at platform nine and three quarters.

An explosion of light enveloped him as something shot out of his wand. He was forced to take a step backwards to steady himself. His bright patronus leapt in front of him, veering from left to right in a cheerful run before fading away.

He recovered more quickly this time, though he felt sweaty and his heart was racing. Even though his patronus had been bright and nearly fully formed this time he still felt kind of disappointed.

He had wanted a big powerful patronus like Harry's. Like a lion, he had secretly hoped - he _was_ a Gryffindor after all. Or even something interesting like Hermione's otter or George's hyaena. My only saving grace, he thought, is that it isn't a bloody guinea-pig!

He heard his brothers sniggering behind him and he cringed inside. Gits. He turned to face them, there was no getting away from it, might as well get it over with.

"Nice ickle patronus, Ickle Ronnikins," chuckled Fred.

"Scare the living daylights out of anyone, that will," George smirked.

"Shuddup," grumbled Ron.

"I hope he's toilet trained," continued Fred.

"Better than a bloody bird," snapped Ron.

"You think?" Said Fred. "At last count I believe my _bloody_ bird could take on a ruddy big snake. What's your patronus gonna do? Fetch your slippers?"

"Piss off," Ron spat at Fred.

"Aw, it was so little and cute though," said George stepping towards his younger brother. "Just like you, Ickle Ronnikins." He reached up and ruffled Ron's already messy hair.

"Gerroff," snapped Ron, brushing his brother's arm away. "I'm taller than you, so I'm hardly little, am I?"

"Maybe we should ask Hermione for conformation of that, George?"

Ron snapped. Fred had stepped over a line. He thought for a second of punching his brother in the face, but instead raised his wand and yelled.

"Expecto patronum!"

His patronus leapt out of his wand and knocked Fred to the ground with an all mighty thud, then vanished.

"It's not so little now that you're sat on your arse, is it?" he said triumphantly to Fred.

"No," admitted Fred breathlessly. "He looked pretty fierce from here, actually."

"Good," said Ron, leaning down to give his brother a hand up whilst George did the same on Fred's other side.

"It was very good, y'know, Ron. Especially for a third try," said George more serious than the twins ever were.

"But do you think you can do it under pressure?" asked Fred, on his feet once more.

Ron shrugged.

"Don't worry, Ickle Prefect. We'll sort something out for you, won't we, George?"

"Anything for our little brother," said George, clapping his hand on Ron's back.

"What d'ya mean you'll sort something out for me? You're not going to put spiders in my bed again or something, are you?"

"That'd be telling," said Fred.

"It's got to be a surprise," finished George. "Else you won't know if you're ready or not."

"I s'pose," Ron said uncertainly.

"Now, let us shout you breakfast at the finest restaurant," Fred grinned.

"Otherwise known as cassa de Weasley," smiled George.

And Ron let his twin brothers lead him inside for breakfast.

The next few days at the Burrow were quiet ones, as with the twins at work and his Mum working for the Order, it was mostly just Ron and Ginny at home. They amused themselves by playing wizard chess and honing their diving techniques on their broomsticks. They often even made the family meal so as to save their Mother from more work.

Ron wrote to Hermione every couple of days, and she back to him. Her letters were mostly about Harry and schoolwork, much to his disapointment. Not that he's expected some great revelation about why she'd hugged him at the train station or anything. She was his friend, so maybe she'd just been happy that he'd made it out of the Department of Mysteries alive? His letters to her were brief and boring, but he made an effort all the same.

The only thing he had to tell her was about his Patronus, which he exercised early each morning after the twins had gone to work, but he wanted to keep it a secret from both her and Harry.

He didn't want her to realize that he'd jump in harms way for her, because he knew she wouldn't take kindly to the idea of being treated as if she were weak. Harry, he reckoned, had enough to deal with without being a tutor for his friend, and it would just be easier to keep it a secret from him.

Ron had written to Harry twice in the two weeks he'd been home, but had only received one reply. It had read:

_Ron,_

_I'm alright. See you soon, I hope._

_Tell Hermione to stop writing, would you?_

_Harry_

He didn't sound very alright, and how could he be, but he didn't want to press the point. From what Hermione had told him she'd been doing enough for the both of him.

Although things were dull at the Burrow, there was a building sense of excitement. Hermione was due to arrive in two days time, and also the night of her arrival there would be a small farewell party for the twins who were moving into their new flat above their joke shop.

A sense of paranoia had also taken a hold on Ron in the last two weeks after his brothers had promised to test him and his patronus. He felt like Mad Eye Moody, as he patted his bed before getting in it each night or sniffing food before he ate it. With the twins anything was possible, be it big or small, but as yet, nothing. In the last few days running up to the farewell party Ron began to let his guard down. Surely they didn't have time to move flat _and_ scare the living daylights out of him?...Did they?


	5. Part Five

Patronize

Part Five.

"C'mon, Ginny. I don't have all bloody day," grizzled Ron Weasley to his youngest sibling as she fussed and combed through his wet hair.

"Well, Ron, I can either take a while and leave you looking decent, or I could be recklessly fast and you'll end up looking like dad," Ginny snapped.

Ron squirmed in his chair, but said nothing more as his sister combed his shaggy fringe in front of his eyes. Their father was going slightly bald. He really didn't want to go that way at all, least of all not at sixteen.

"Sit still, or I'll just let Mum do it. And you know what her hair cuts are like."

They both laughed, and Ron tried his best to sit still. Their mother insisted each summer holidays that everyone in the family get a hair cut, and said family learned pretty quickly the security of cutting each others' hair, just so their Mum wouldn't attack them with the scissors and leave them looking like they were off to join the military.

"Not too short, okay, Gin? Just so it's out of my face."

"No worries, Ron, it's under control. I learnt from the best..."she trailed off sadly.

The twins always cut each other's hair, (something about not needing mirrors they always said), and Ginny cut the hair for her other brothers. Their poor father was the only one who suffered in stoic silence whilst his wife lovingly gave him a severe haircut.

"Errm. Who's gonna cut _your_ hair this year, Ginny?" Ron asked tentatively. Percy had always cut Ginny's hair, ever since she was small. His eye for detail and perfectionistic nature was well used when working carefully on his sister's long hair.

"I don't know. I sort of did it myself last year, then got Bill to even it out at the back. So I'll probably do that again." She smiled wanly at Ron's reflection and he smiled back through his decreasing fringe. "There you go, you're done," she said, cutting the last lock of fiery hair from his eyeline.

"Cheers, Gin, appreciate it," said Ron, getting up and patting his little sister on the back. If anything she seemed smaller than ever, he thought, though perhaps it was just because he'd gotten taller again in the their two weeks at home.

"Anytime, Ronnikins, now get out, I've got to get ready for Dean," Ginny replied, pushing him bodily from the room.

"What do you mean get ready for Dean? You look fine..." Ron managed before he found himself standing in the hall looking at Ginny's closed door. Ron scratched his head in bewilderment. Would he ever understand the minds of girls? Not bloody likely, he decided.

Ron went to the bathroom and washed his face clear of any stray hair that Ginny hadn't brushed away properly. He carefully shaved the bit of stubble that was beginning to appear on his upper lip and chin and brushed his teeth thoroughly. Next he returned to his room and chose his least frayed and tattered t-shirt, an old grey marl one with the Chudly Cannons logo over the right breast and combed his hair through with his fingers.

"Done," he looked at his watch, "In under five minutes. I don't know what Ginny's on about." He looked at his reflection and saw a thin gangly young man looking back at him.

How could_ she_ fancy someone like me, he thought dejectedly, and stooped off downstairs to the living room and took a seat opposite the fireplace to wait for Hermione.

It didn't take long before the familiar green smoke appeared in the grate. Ron leaped to his feet, self consciously smoothing down his tee shirt. But the person who emerged from the flames was not Hermione.

It was Fleur Delacour, with her silvery hair and ravishing smile. Ron tried to shake his head free of the giddy sensation he was experiencing at the sight of her.

"'Ello Ronald," Fleur smiled as she gracefully stepped out of the grate.

"Err, um," Ron stumbled, mentally kicking himself. "Hi Fleur."

"Is 'Arry 'ere too? I would love to say 'ello."

"No. He's not here yet, he's coming next week, I think."

"Oh, well that is a shame, but I'm sure we will see 'eem soon enough. Oh, there you are Bill." She turned towards the fire as another tall red head entered the room.

Ron tried his best to shift focus from Fleur's freshly presented backside to his brother.

"Hi Ron," grinned Bill. "Didn't realize we'd be getting a welcoming party."

"Oh, well, I was just sitting around," said Ron, feigning innocence.

"Without a book or anything?" Bill asked suspiciously. "I think you were waiting for someone, and it wasn't us, was it?" Bill waggled his eyebrows for added effect.

"Shaddup," growled Ron.

"Oh Bill, you're here!" Cooed Mrs. Weasley as she bustled into the room and wrapped her eldest son up in a smothering hug. "You're looking very thin, Bill, I hope you haven't been too busy working to eat."

"I'm fine Mum, honestly," said Bill rolling his eyes. "And look Mum, I bought Fleur with me."

The room felt to Ron as if it had dropped several degrees as his mother and Fleur had some sort of non verbal stand off.

"'Ello Mrs. Weasley. It ees so nice to see you again," tried Fleur.

"Well, any _friend_ of Bill's is a friend of ours," said Mrs. Weasley dismissively.

Thankfully the fire flared again, and drew Ron's attention away from the strained conversation. Surely it was Hermione this time. She wasn't one to be late.

A dread locked head appeared from the fire. Lee Jordon had arrived.

"Oh, come in dear, come in," Mrs. Weasley said to Lee. Ron could see Bill cringing at her favoritism. "I think Fred and George are out in the shed, you know the way through, don't you?"

"Yeah, thanks, Mrs. Weasley," smiled Lee appreciatively. "Hi Ron, Bill, Miss Delacour. See you at the party then."

Ron watched him head out the back door and sat himself back down on the couch.

"I think I'll go take Fleur on a tour of the house, Mum," said Bill. "And I'll talk to _you_, later, little brother," he finished with a wink as he ushered his girlfriend out of the room.

"Tsk. I don't know about that girl," tutted Mrs. Weasley as if she had forgotten that one of her sons still remained in the room.

"She's not so bad, Mum. Ask Harry," Ron recommended.

Ron was mercifully saved by the peevish look his mother gave him when the green flames licked about the fireplace once more and a figure stumbled and nearly fell out of the grate. Ron leaped to his feet and helped the shaggy figure to his feet.

"Are you okay, Mundungus?"

"Fine, young Weasley, fine. Which one are you, then?" He slurred, obviously somewhat drunk.

"Ron."

"Ah, yes, me old son. Ronald Weasley, as I live and breath," whispered Mundungus Fletcher with an air of mystery.

"And drink," added Mrs. Weasley in a no nonsense voice. "What do you think you're doing turning up at our home in such a state?"

"Well, I heard there was a party, see," said Mundungus as if it was all perfectly logical. "I love a good party, me," he grinned toothily.

Ron couldn't help but snigger, but his mother caught him.

"You think that's funny do you? I forty-something old drunkard turning up at a high school party?"

"No Mum," Ron replied instinctively, as he shurnk back into the couch.

A new voice joined the conversation. "Is he here yet?"

"Who, Ginny dear?"

"Ahhh Ginerva Weasley, by the stars, such a pretty wee lass," croaked Mundungus, holding his hands up to the sky.

"Erm. Hello, Mundungus," Ginny said unsurely. "Dean, Mum. He should be here any minute. Is Hermione not here yet, Ron?" She asked, catching sight of her brother on the couch.

"Not yet," said Ron aloofly.

"Brilliant witch, that one. Could run rings around most," Mundungus said as he staggered toward the kitchen. "Got any Firewhiskey back there, Molly?"

Ron and Ginny grinned at each other as their mother bustled after Mundungus who was clearly going through the kitchen pantry.

"Ah, this'll be him now," squeaked Ginny as the fire blazed once more.

"Don't count on it. The Burrow seems to be the place to be today. I'm expecting Merlin to show up any minute," laughed Ron.

His joke was short lived however when Dean Thomas stepped out of the fireplace and hugged his sister.

"Urg, get a room you two," he snapped. "Actually don't," he recounted hurriedly. "Just don't..." he trailed off, covering his eyes as Dean gave Ginny a peck on the cheek.

"Don't be such a Nanna, Ron," Ginny huffed. "Come on Dean, let's go for a walk."

"By the way, Bill's home. Fleur too," Ron called as they left the room.

"Not _her_," Ginny wrinkled her nose in disgust as she closed the door.

Ron settled back into the couch, putting his leg up on his knee and jiggling his foot to an imaginary beat. He was beginning to feel a little more than anxious now. More like annoyed. What the hell was Hermione doing? Maybe she was writing yet another pointless letter to Harry or something, he thought harshly.

The fire sparked green once more and his heart leapt, just to fall like lead when one by one Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet and Angelina Johnson issued from the grate. They all smiled and chatted to him for a few minutes until they abandoned him for the twins and Lee.

He didn't blame them. He had tried to be a good host, but knew he'd been grumpy the whole time. He was feeling the rage bubbling up inside of him. Hermione obviously doesn't fancy me at all, else she'd be here by now, he thought dejectedly.

The next and most unfortunate person to step from the fire was Mr. Weasley, who bought the full brunt of Ron's foul mood, only to be dragged by Mrs. Weasley to the kitchen to resolve the Mundungus related problems she was having.

Ron was just about to give up and leave when the fire hissed and flamed green once more. He turned, a scowl etched in readiness to challenge whoever dared not be Hermione this time.

His heart jerked into his throat when he realized that finally here was Hermione Granger. She stepped out of the grate, turning to drag her trunk out of the fire behind her. She turned back to him and smiled, and his heart melted, all of the past hour of anger dissipated in seconds.

"Hello, Ron," she said warmly as she stood in front of him.

"Hi, Hermione. I'm glad your here at last. What took so bloody long?"

She blushed. He couldn't remember the last time he saw her do that.

"Oh, well I though I should make an effort. You know, for the twin's party."

"But you always look nice," blurted out Ron before he could stop himself.

"Well, that's not at all true, Ron."

"Yeah it is. I mean, you'd look good even in the sack. Err, _a _sack. Umm, I mean, in anything! You know." He could feel his ears blazing and hoped he'd recovered his revealing sentence well enough. She wasn't slapping him in the face, so maybe she hadn't noticed, he thought hopefully.

"That's very, um, nice of you, Ron, but I can't just get out of bed in the morning without having big hair and pillow creases," she laughed.

"I think you look great in the morning." Oh gods, Ron thought, what am I saying?

Hermione just looked puzzled, and then said, "When have you seen me straight out of bed?"

Fortunately Ron knew exactly when, he'd filed it away in his mind and had reviewed it on many occaisions.

"When we all had to sleep in the Great Hall, remember? When we all thought Sirius was a scary nutter after Harry..." He instantly wished he hadn't said the name of Harry's Godfather. Hermione's warm smile fell at once.

"Sorry," he whispered.

"It's okay," she whispered back.

They stood just looking at each other once more. Ron was forcibly reminded of the train station two weeks ago. He remembered the feel of her arms around him and his heart beat faster. He was trying hard to restrain himself from hugging her again. He didn't want to be out of line. Not with her.

"I missed you," she smiled before flinging her arms around him.


	6. Part Six

Patronize

Part Six

Ron's heart felt like it was about to explode and his stomach was filled with a million fiery butterflies as Hermione Granger hugged him. It had taken him a moment to register what had happened. They had been standing apart in silence, and then suddenly she had launched herself on him, her arms about his neck. His brain temporarily stunned, jolted back to life moments later and he was able to hug her back.

"I missed you too, 'Mione," he whispered, unsure whether she heard it or not, though he felt her hug him even tighter. The smell of her so close to him was pure intoxication.

"You've gotten taller," she stated in a soft voice. "I have to stand on tip toes now."

He grinned. "Yeah, sorry about that."

"It's okay," she giggled. "I see you've gotten a hair cut too." She pulled back slightly to look at his face. "I like it."

Ron grinned even harder.

They pulled apart slowly so her arms were loosely draped about his neck and his about her hips. He felt the heat in the air between them and his heart urged him to lean forward and kiss her pink perfect lips. His eyes flickered from her lips to her eyes, which were clear and held no traces of indecision. Did she want him to kiss her?

He was not to find out, as, at the moment he decided in the affirmative the door to the lounge opened and Bill Weasley entered the room.

"Oh, ho! Not interrupting anything, I hope."

Ron could feel Hermione leap away from him as if she had just been stuck with a pin, and knew he had done exactly the same. He could feel the blood rush to is ears, and he wanted nothing more than to deck Bill at that moment.

"What do _you_ bloody well want?" He growled to his older brother.

"Oh, come now, that's no way to treat the brother you haven't seen for months."

"I saw you just now when you arrived, you git," Ron spat.

"Well, we hadn't seen Hermione now, had we?" Bill retorted with a grin as Fleur entered the room behind him.

Ron could feel his mind being curdled between the anger he felt at Bill and the presence of Fleur Delacour almost immediately.

"Well, you've seen her now, haven't you?" He said to Bill in a drifty voice that he had meant to sound harsh. He couldn't even take his eyes off Fleur to indicate to Hermione.

Hermione had obviously noticed, as when she spoke next she sounded rather cold and reserved, not the giggly, sweet girl of minutes before. "Hello, Bill. Fleur."

"'Ello, 'Ermione, 'ow are you?"

"Fine thanks," said Hermione flatly. "I'm just going to see if your Mum needs any help in the kitchen, Ron."

"I'm really sorry, mate," Bill said apologetically after Hermione had left the room in a huff. "Still, it could have been worse. It could have been Fred and George who walked in on...whatever that was."

"Yeah, you should be," scowled Ron, his rage drowning out the giddy feeling that Fleur always caused. He strode off outside towards the wood shed to see what the twins and their party guests were up to. He knew Hermione well enough to know that if she was annoyed with him, she'd need a bit of time to cool off first.

"Hey, Ron, mate, wait up!"

Ron turned to see Dean Thomas hurrying after him.

"Where's Ginny?" Ron felt a bit uneasy. Dean hadn't hurt her or anything, had he?

"Oh, well, she took off for the kitchen after she caught me starring at Bill's girlfriend. I don't know what came over me," he gestured wildly, "it was like I couldn't _not_ look at her. It was like she was part Veela or something."

"She is."

"What?"

"She _is_ part Veela. Harry found out during the tournament," sighed Ron. "So...welcome to the dog box."

The two boys stomped through the large backyard of the Burrow until they reached the shed. Squeals of excitement and bangs were coming from inside.

"What's going on in here?" Ron asked as he poked his head around the shed door. It was so crowded by the three girls, the twins and Lee Jordon that he could see very little. Just some flashes. Probably fireworks, he guessed.

"Get'cha big, long nose out of it, Ronnikins," shouted Fred.

"It's a surprise for later," explained George roughly, "and we don't want a big oaf like you spoiling it."

"Sorry, Ron," said Alicia kindly from over Lee's shoulder.

Fred however wasn't so kind, and bodily forced Ron from the tiny shed and slammed the door in his face. Dust and cobwebs fell in his hair, and he hurriedly brushed them away in panic.

"Any spiders in my hair?" He asked Dean.

"Nah, mate, I think you're clear."

"Would you believe I've had the door slammed in my face twice today?" Ron asked as they headed back towards the house. "Hope the girls've cooled down by now".

However, it seemed that the girls were onto bigger and better things than merely being annoyed by boys. Mr. Weasley and Mundungus Fletcher had both been ejected from the kitchen and into the lounge where they joined Bill and Fleur. Fleur seemed to be the only one talking, whilst the other three just sat staring at her.

Ron shook his head, least he get hooked on the sight of Fleur again and headed into the kitchen with Dean, who was looking slightly bemused again, in tow.

"Fancy a cup of tea, Dean?" Ron asked as he skirted about the edges of the kitchen.

"Sure," said Dean who had noticed Mrs. Weasley, Ginny and Hermione hunched over the kitchen table talking in whispers. They glanced at the boys briefly, then turned back their attention to the matter at hand.

Ron lit the element and both boys waited in patient silence whilst the kettle came to a boil. Both knew instinctively to keep talking to a minimum, there was an air of hostility coming from the three witches.

Every now and then Ron caught a phrase like: "She's not good enough for Bill." Or: "Fancy tart." That one had to be Ginny, he thought with a smirk.

Mrs. Weasley left the table at that point and commenced cutting some vegetables viscously, Dean moving deftly out of her way. Hermione and Ginny gave the boys dirty looks, then continued their hushed conversation whilst helping Mrs. Weasley by preparing some potatoes.

Ron was just pouring the scalding water into the tea pot when Fred and George entered the room laughing madly. Ron and Dean looked at each other and smiled. Obviously matters had changed very little in the lounge.

"Hello, Hermione," said George, patting her on the back affectionately.

"How're you doing?" Added Fred.

"Fine thanks. Are you looking forward to moving out?"

"Yeah, it's going to be brilliant," said Fred enthusiastically. Upon catching a sad look from his mother he added, "except we'll miss Mum's cooking, won't we George?"

His twin nodded, and patted his Mum on the back as he made his way to a crate of butterbeers in the corner. "Don't worry, Mum, we'll still be back for tea at least twice a week. More if it's Lee's turn to cook."

Ron joined his brothers in a laugh. He had sampled Lee's poor excuse for cooking before.

"Here, Fred, grab these would you," said George reaching out across Ginny and handing his twin some bottles of butterbeer.

"Out the way, George," grizzled Ginny. "I can't see what I'm doing."

"Aw, just think, you'll miss it when we're gone, Gin. You'll only have Ron to get his big fat head in the way."

"Oi!" Said Ron. "My head's not big."

"Well, you're feet sure are," argued Fred, accidentally bumping Ginny as he gathered the bottles of butterbeer.

"Now, now, you three. Settle down," warned Mrs. Weasley.

"_Fred!_" Ginny grumbled as he bumped her again.

"Right, that's it!" Exploded Mrs. Weasley. "All of you, get out."

"But Mum, we're just getting some butterbeers for the girls," implored Fred.

"Well, you've got enough now. Go on, boys, shoo."

"Yes, Mum," grouched George carrying as many bottles as he could and leaving the room with his twin.

"Actually, you lot could go and get the trestle tables out," she gestured at Ron and Dean. "Hermione, will you go grab Fred and George, please dear, and ask them to help too?"

"Of course, Mrs. Weasley," said Hermione, as she hurried out after the twins.

"Come on Dean, let's get started," Ginny said, shooting Dean a wink. He grinned back and followed her out of the kitchen. Ron's gut instinct told him that they would not be helping put out the tables.

"Mum, do you want to finish my tea? I've hardly drunken any."

"Thank you, dear. Now get out and help your brothers."

Ron put the cup of tea by the sink and headed outside. Passing through the lounge he saw that things hadn't changed there much. Fleur was ranting about the English weather whilst the Weasleys and Mundungus looked rapt. Angelina, Katie and Alicia were sitting in a corner chatting animatedly with their butterbeers in hand, but ignoring the battle of wills that was taking place in the other corner of the room.

Outside he found Fred and George putting out the first table, whilst Hemione and Lee were wrestling with one each.

"Hang on Hermione, let me help you. It's a two person job."

"Thanks, Ron," she said, still rather curtly.

"Look George," said Fred. "Trouble in paradise."

"Shaddup," growled Ron, threateningly.

"Perhaps Perfect Prefect doesn't like Ickle Ronnikin's new haircut. She can see too much of his ugly great face now."

"Leave off," Ron grumbled, helping Hermione overturn and put up another table.

"Don't listen to them, Ron," Hermione said quietly but firmly.

"Aww, look. She's bossing him around already and everything," said George. "Just wait until she becomes Big Head Girl. She's going to be unbearable_ then_."

"Look, have a go at me, fine, but leave Hermione alone, alright?" Shouted Ron giving Lee a hand to put up the next table.

"Ooooo," Fred gasped in mock shock. "What'cha going to do about it, Ickle Prefect?"

Ron was about to retaliate when he suddenly noticed Hermione shivering and rubbing her hands together.

"Are you alright, Hermione?"

"Yes, but it's suddenly gotten really cold. Aren't you cold?"

"Yeah, I'm b-b-bloody cold," agreed Lee through chattering teeth.

Actually it was getting very cold, Ron realized, and damp. And sort of misty. His tee shirt was sticking to his back unpleasantly, and it was chilling him to the bone.

"Have you two done something?" Ron asked Fred and George.

"What do you mean?" Asked Fred who was rubbing his arms in a vane effort to warm himself.

"That 'take me off-guard business', you haven't," he gestured vaguely, "done something have you?"

"Not us, bro," said George looking around at the encroaching mist. "This isn't right though. It's supposed to be summer."

"I know what this is," whispered Hermione. "I've seen it before."

The four boys stopped messing with the tables and looked at her. She looked frightened and cold. It struck Ron then.

Dementors.

"Hermione, get back in the house. _Now!_"

"No, Ron, I'm not leaving you here." Though frightened she also looked very determined.

"I'm not kidding, Hermione, get inside," Ron implored.

"Go in, Hermione and get help," shouted George over the wind that was swishing around their ears now. It seemed that he too had cottoned on to what was happenening. "You too, Ron, this isn't some sort of game."

"I know it's not a bloody game," yelled Ron, his voice cracking. "Hermione, will you get out of here, _please_!"

"No! I'm not going anywh..." She trailed off as four dark silhouettes appeared through the mist. Ron instinctively joined ranks with Fred and George in front of Hermione. Lee looked undecided.

"Lee," yelled Fred, "take Hermione in would you, and get Dad and Bill out here. _Now!_ Tell them they must've broken through the wards. We don't want to let them get near the house, else they'll sense everyone and try and get in."

Hermione fought Lee very little now that the Dementors were nearly in sight, and he was able to pull her off indoors with him.

"Ron, are you sure you won't g-go?" Chattered Fred.

In reply Ronald Weasley pulled his wand from thre back pocket of his cordoroy jeans and stood fast. His brothers followed suit.

The Dementors emerged from the shadowy mist which swirled and nipped at their skeletal heels. The wind grew fiercer and howled through the trees.

The Weasley brothers stood shoulder to shoulder and waited for the worst to happen.


	7. Part Seven

Partonize

Part Seven

Ron Wealsey could feel the cold sweat pouring off his brow, his hair plastered to his head. His tee shirt was stuck to his back with sweat, and he could feel the chill right down in the marrow of his bones.

He was frightened beyond all reason.

The Dementors had arrived.

He looked to his left and saw his brother Fred at his shoulder. He looked extremely pale as if he had never laughed in his life. It also looked as if he had bitten his lip as a slight trickle of blood laced his chin.

On Ron's right stood his other brother, George. He too was ashen and bloodless. His face was full of sheer malice for the otherworldly creatures before him, and his wand hand was shaking uncontrollably.

The Dementors themselves seemed to be in no hurry to reach them, as if they enjoyed toying with their prey. They glided slowly across the garden, the mists swirling about them lazily like water behind a row boat.

Ron was having a hard time trying to keep his wand hand from shaking. It was cold and sweaty and his wand felt precarious in his grip. He switched hands, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers, before returning his wand to it.

He had experienced the Dementors once two years ago on the train to Hogwarts, but that had been different. There was something utterly horrifying about being in the open air with these creatures as opposed to indoors. And last time there was only one. Now there were several.

He tried to think of happy thoughts, but they were ebbing away swiftly. What was it like to smile and laugh, he tried to think, but it was gone. All that was left was cold and melancholy and terrified.

Now he knew why Hermione had been so frightened. She had seen them nearly destroy Harry and Sirius. She knew what they were capable off. Hermione, he thought. She's inside, she's safe.

He clung on to this one and only thought. It wasn't exactly happy, but it was a fact. Even if it was the end for him, she would be okay. He'd make sure of it.

Fred stirred at his left. The Dementors were only yards away now.

"Last chance, little brother," said George in a voice that sounded nothing like his usual cheerful tone. It sounded hollow and stony.

"No. I s-stay," Ron whispered back through chattering teeth.

"Right then," Fred growled through bloody teeth, "on the count of three."

Ron and George nodded in agreement. All they needed to do, thought Ron, was to keep them off until until their father and Bill arrived. Lee seemed to be taking an awfully long time. Or else time had frozen, just like his feet.

"One," whispered George.

"Two," followed Fred.

"Three," growled Ron, holding out his wand with a determination he had never had before. Hermione is safe, Hermione is safe.

"Expecto Patronum!"

All three patronus's burst from their respective wands. Fred and George's darted towards the Dementors surrounded in a sort of weak candle destine light. It was enough to make a couple of Dementors halt their precession, but nothing more.

Ron's patronus flared brightly, almost blindingly, but was short lived. The dementors flinched and floated backwards a step. The flash of warm light had obviously infused his brothers with some remembrance of the sun, however, as their patronus's became more solid, even as Ron tried again.

"Expecto Patronum!" Ron yelled, but it was just some bright sparks that shot out of his wand now.

"Get inside, Ron!" Cried a voice behind him, he willed his frozen legs to move, and he turned to see Bill followed closely by his father and Mundungus Fletcher who were running towards him. "We'll take it from here, just get inside."

"Expecto Patronum!" Bellowed Mundungus Fletcher, for all the world looking like a suicidal juggernaut as he ran at the Dementors without slowing down. A jet of silver leaped in front of him in the form of a large raven which beat it's wings about the ominous heads of the dementors.

"Ron, did you hear me?" Bill shouted in his ear, "get inside!"

Ron felt foggy and disorientated. There was still a freezing chill in the misty air, but now there were bursts of light everywhere as Bill and his father joined the fray, pushing Fred and George behind them.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley," a shrill voice screamed from the house, "get in here _now_!"

A warm hand touched his frosty arm. "Come with me, Ronald." The voice was soothing, if slightly exotic, and he followed it almost blindly.

It was Fleur Delacour.

She coaxed him to the house, where on the doorstep he was smothered by his Mum in a bone crushing hug. When he had pulled himself free he saw that Fleur had raced off outside to join the others. Flashes of light were blazing from different spots around the garden, and he could hear the yelling of instructions coming from Mundungus and his father. They were circling the Dementors.

He was to see no more, as his mother pushed him inside and slammed the door behind them. She dragged him into the kitchen and forced a hot drink in his hands.

"What the devil do you think you were doing out there?" She barked. Then tears flooded her eyes and she hugged him again, Ron trying to balance his tea on the sideboard quickly.

"Are you alright, Ronnie?" She sobbed into his already damp shoulder.

"I'm okay, Mum," he replied in a voice that sounded like gravel and tore at his throat.

"Ron!" Squealed a second female voice, as the door to the kitchen flung open. "You're okay!" Ginny flung her arms about the both of them. "I'm so glad you're okay. Where are Fred and George?"

"Still out there," he said almost emotionlessly He felt cold and empty, as if the loss of heat from his skin was being pulled straight away from his very heart.

Ron buried his face in his sister's hair and clung on to the two women, like a leech to blood. He vaguely heard the kitchen door open a second time, but no one said anything. His mother and Ginny relentlessly held him.

Then the back door opened and Fleur followed by Fred and George trooped in. Pale and sweaty, but smiling. Mrs. Weasley looked up and Fleur replied before her question could be asked.

"The dementors 'ave gone. Bill and Arthur are putting up new wards now. Mssr. Mundungus ees helping also." She turned and headed back outside to assist Bill.

"Boys, are you okay? What were you thinking?" Mrs. Weasley turned her speech to the twins before hugging them both to her.

"Hang on, Mum," croaked Fred, "I think I'm gonna be sick." He raced back out the door with George on his heels. Tandem vomiting noises came from the front garden. Mrs. Weasley bustled after them to make sure they were alright.

"They weren't kidding," giggled Ginny, still hugging Ron. "You're not going to be sick are you? 'Cause I need some warning if you do." She drew back and looked in his face. "You look awful, you know."

"Thanks, Gin," Ron replied, trying hard to smile.

"And you smell," she added with a giggle.

"Cheers, Gin. Hermione!" He had suddenly looked from his sister to the lounge door, and he realized who had come through it minutes ago. It was Hermione. She stood in the doorway with her cheeks streaked with tears. Her hands were over her mouth in a mix of shock and relief.

He forgot all about how cold and strange he felt in a second. The tears trickling down her face tore at him like nothing else ever could. "Hermione, are you okay?"

She nodded with a tiny whimper and looked at the floor.

Ron released his sister gently and walked towards Hermione and pulled one of the hands away from her face and held it.

"It's okay, Hermione."

Hermione's eyes instantly brimmed with tears and she began to blubber. Ron didn't really know what to do, but after hugging two sobbing women who now seemed to be alright, he thought perhaps that was the best plan of attack. He took another step towards her and put his arms loosely around her.

She suddenly latched onto him and clung desperately. He could feel her tears soaking through any dry patches that remained in his tee shirt. He hugged her tightly, as if her tears were melting his heart of ice.

"We're okay, Mum – honestly!" Appealed George, who looked as pale as Nearly Headless Nick, as everyone trooped back inside.

"And look at you, Fred, all that blood all over your chin, you look a fright."

"It's nothing Mum," grizzled Fred.

Ron waited for Hermione to leap off of him with the arrival of everyone, including Fleur Delacour, into the kitchen, but it was as if she wasn't aware of anything over her sobbing.

"Y'know what we all need, Molly," grinned Mundungus Fletcher, "is a big glass of brandy. Or firewhiskey, if you've got it."

Ron was amazed. He had always thought of Mundungus Fletcher as some sort of old washed up drunkard, but of everyone he seemed the least affected by the dementors. Perhaps, he thought, that's what happens when you have nothing much left to loose.

"All right there, Ron," he said passing Ron with a clap on the back. Still Hermione clung to him without comment.

"Yeah," said Ron, sounding like his old self again.

Squeals echoed from the lounge and Angelina, Alicia and Katie swarmed into the kitchen and proceeded to hug and kiss Fred and George. Lee, Dean and Ginny stood behind them grinning.

Ron couldn't imagine how Hermione could not realize that they were now in a very noisy, crowded kitchen. Not that he minded. In fact, despite being very wet and cold now, he loved having Hermione hug on to him as if he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Suddenly he felt Hermione shift in his arms. Her head was still down, but her fists began pounding on his chest.

"How could you do that to me, you prat!" She spluttered.

"Shh! Hermione. What do yo mean? What did I do?"

"You could have died out there," she yelled, her tone pitching over the other voices in the room. Ron was painfully away that everyone was now quiet and staring at them.

"You made me leave, Ronald. You made me leave when you needed me."

"Hermione, it's okay. Everybody's fine now."

"And what if you weren't? I know what you were trying to do, Ron Weasley!"

Ron felt very out of his depth. He wasn't used to being berated for who-knew-what whilst being thudded in the chest.

"Shh! Just settle down," he tried.

"Oh, that's rich!" She screamed. "Maybe you should get Lee to help you settle me down!"

Ron saw Lee slink out of the room out of the corner of his eye.

"What?" He was beginning to move from bewilderment to anger now.

"How could you do that to me?" She repeated hysterically.

Someone coughed.

"You are_ so_ thoughtless!"

That was it, he couldn't keep it in any longer.

"Thoughtless was I?" He grabbed her hands about the wrists and steadied them. "I saw how bloody scared you were. You didn't need to go through that. You didn't _need_ to be scared."

She was looking up at him now, red faced and angry. The Weasley family excited the room quietly, until there was only Mundungus and his bottle of brandy left sat at the table.

"I didn't want you to be scared or hurt!" Ron shouted. "That's why we got Lee to take you inside!"

"Don't you see, you idiot? I _was_ scared," she wrenched her hands free and one of them connected to his cheek in a slap. "I can't believe you did that to me.." She stormed out of the room, slamming the door, leaving Ron bewildered with a red mark on his face.

"Don't try to understand them," piped up Mundungus sagely. "They don't even understand themselves, you know."

Ron Weasley was forced to agree.


	8. Part Eight

Patronize

Part Seven

He stood still with his eyes closed and face upturned to the shower head, enjoying the feeling of the hot water pelting his face and shoulders, warming his icy skin. He wished the water could rinse away the last few hours of terror and confusion, but was glad enough just to be warm again. He still felt cold on the inside, deep down in his bones, and he hoped that the heat of the scouring water would penetrate soon.

Ron Weasley was exhausted. Not only had he faced several Dementors today in the company of only his twin brothers, but he had also been on the receiving end of what seemed to be a very illogical argument from the most logical person he knew.

He didn't understand why Hermione was so upset with him. After he had returned to the house she had hugged him, cried on his shoulder, beaten her fists against his chest, shouted at him and slapped him. All in the space of ten minutes.

And now she wasn't even talking to him. Or anyone. She'd barricaded herself into Ginny's room without another word.

Ron felt his cheek where he could still imagine the imprint of where Hermione's hand had sharply slapped him.

What was she thinking? She'd said that he had done something to her. He had no idea what. All he had done was urge Lee to take her inside when the Dementors arrived. He had done it instinctively, and he didn't regret it one bit.

Ron sighed and turned his back to the shower head. He ran his hands over his face wearily. He had tried his best to produce a Patronus, but it hadn't worked properly. It had been more of a sort of a beacon of light than anything else.

At least it was brighter than Fred or George's, he thought glumly. And I didn't throw up when I came back to the house.

He had felt dreadful though. Sort of dead inside. He respected Hagrid all the more for withstanding his two month stint in Azkaban, and couldn't even imagine how incredible Sirius Black must have been to survive there for so many years. Sirius Black who was dead. Murdered.

He turned off the shower, shook his head of both water and bad memories and stepped out of the shower box. He dried his bright pink skin and collected his thoughts as best he could. The night wasn't over yet.

The lounge was a quiet contemplative place when Ron entered a quarter of an hour later.

His parents, Bill, Fleur and Mundungus Fletcher were sitting about the rickety dinning table discussing why the Dementors had attacked the Burrow in hushed tones.

Fred and George sat on the large couch by the fire with Alicia, Katie and Angelina between and on either side of them. Lee sat opposite in a smaller mismatched couch with Dean. Beside Dean was an empty space. Ron realized immediately that Ginny must be trying to get Hermione to come down for dinner.

"You should have seen her," whispered Lee to Fred and George. "As soon as we got back to the house she screamed and yelled. She even kicked me in the shins! And look," Lee held out his hand.

"Blimey," said Fred. "She bit you?"

Lee nodded, before catching Ron out of the corner of his eye.

"So she hasn't come down then," Ron said, more of a statement than a question.

"Nah, mate," said Dean. "Gin's gone to see if she can get her to come down."

"Right," sighed Ron as he slumped into the chair nearest the fire.

"You never told us Hermione was a biter," said Fred out of the blue.

Ron merely scowled back at him.

"So you're in the dog box again?" George asked.

Ron nodded, then added, "dunno why though."

"Just remember, little brother, there's no 'wrong' without 'Ron'."

Ron scowled again, and crossed his long legs up under him on his seat. He stared into the fire whilst the twins entertained their guests. They had lost some of their usual spark in conversation and their faces were still very pale.

After a while Angelina excused herself and the other girls and Lee followed suit and headed home.

"Sorry about tonight," Fred told Katie as she went to get into the fire grate. "We'll have a proper flat warming party next weekend."

"You better," she smiled coyly before throwing a pinch of floo powder and disappearing.

Fred and George bunched up on their large couch to get closer to the fire. Ron could see that Fred's lip was still a bit swollen. He must have bit it quite badly.

"Well, Gin?" Asked Dean as Ginny appeared from the staircase.

"She won't come down. She won't even stop crying. I tried to calm her down, but she wasn't having any of it. She told me to go away." Ginny shrugged. "I didn't really know what to do, so I stayed for a bit, but she just got angrier."

"It's best to get out of her face when she's angry," said Ron quietly. "If you can."

After a scrumptious Mrs. Weasley dinner everyone settled into the lounge. It wasn't long until Mrs. Weasley and Mundungus got into a heated debate over the proper usage of cooking sherry.

Ron decided he'd go make a cup of tea and left for the calm of the kitchen. His dad entered not long after him.

"Are you okay, Ron?" He asked kindly.

Ron busied himself with putting the tea leaves into the teapot. "I will be, Dad."

"It was a very brave thing you did tonight. All three of you. And I hope you never have to do it again."

"I didn't do a hell of a lot," mumbled Ron.

"Are you kidding?" Said George, bursting into the kitchen.

"Did you see our Patronus' to begin with?" Added Fred. "Well,_ I _hardly could they were so see through and pale."

"If it wasn't for that burst of light of yours," continued George, "there's no way we would have had the strength to send out better charms."

"You very nearly had it, Ickle Ronnikins," Fred said, clapping him on the back.

"But like you said the other week," Ron grumbled, "_nearly_ doesn't cut it."

"The Patronus Charm isn't something to be taken lightly, Ron," his father said. "Even some fully grown wizards can't produce a powerful shield."

"Yeah. I guess. I just want to be ready next time."

"You will be," his father said darkly, "you know what to expect from them now. It will always be terrible, but at least you can gauge it. They won't be such a shock next time."

Fred shivered visibly. "I hope their won't be a next time."

"I'll second that," George said, yawning widely. "Time for bed, I think, Twin."

"Yes indeed," agreed Fred. "Goodnight, father, goodnight dear brother."

"Night boys," smiled Mr. Weasley, well used to the odd ways of the twins.

"Oh, and Ronnikins," George added as he went to follow Fred out of the room, "I wouldn't open your trunk tonight if I were you."

Ron scowled. "Why? What've you put in it?"

"Boggart," grinned George like a cheshire cat. "Night, then."

Ron took George's advice and steered well clear of his trunk. The last thing he wanted to deal with tonight was a boggart pretending to be a dementor, or worse.

Ron changed for bed, wearing pajama pants and a faded, near thread bare Chudley Cannons tee shirt. He also pulled an extra blanket over his garish orange bedspread. Though it was summer and the air was warm once again, the memory of the dementor's chill was still strong.

He got into bed and put out the lamp. He was so exhausted he fell to sleep almost immediately, his last thought lingering on Hermione Granger slapping his face.

He awoke sometime later to the pressure of his bed changing. Someone or something was sitting on the end of it. With the dementor attack still fresh in his mind he instinctively grabbed his wand from his bed side table, sat straight up and held out his wand at arm's length.

A squeal came from the end of the bed.

"Lumos," Ron said clearly.

"Sorry, you were so quick you gave me a fright," explained the tearful girl on the end of his bed. "I tried knocking, but you didn't answer."

"Hermione," yawned Ron, reaching out and lighting the lamp, "What's wrong?" Tears were spilling from her eyes as they had in the kitchen that evening.

"I do understand what you did," she whispered.

Ron rubbed his face with his hands to help himself wake up, but it was no good. He still didn't know what this conversation was about. "I'm sorry, Hermione, but I'm not sure what you mean."

"Getting Lee to take me away," she sniffed. "I understand, because I would have done the same to Harry. Or to you."

"Then you know why I couldn't let you stay there," Ron whispered, finally grasping what she was talking about. "I couldn't let anything happen to you, Hermione."

"But something did happen, Ron." Her tears flowed more freely now, though her speech remained soft and clear.

Ron wriggled towards her and patiently waited for her to finish.

"I was scared," she continued. "Even more scared because I didn't know what was happening. Because I wasn't there to help you." She began sobbing and her gaze flickered to the hands she held in her lap. "Because if something happened to you..."

"Nothing did, Hermione, I'm right here," he returned softly.

"No, listen. If I lost you..." She dissolved into sobs again. "If I lost you, I couldn't manage without you..."

Ron stared at her. "Of course you could, Hermione. You're the smartest witch of our age, remember? And you'd still have Harry beside you. Ginny and Neville too.

Hermione looked up into his face, her brown eyes shining. "But I wouldn't have you, Ron!" She leaned forward and hugged him.

"You won't loose me, Hermione. There are plenty of people looking out for me. That goes for Harry as well." He sighed into her hair, enjoying the feeling of her heart beating so closely to his. "But you only have..." He trailed off and couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"What do I have, Ron?" She whispered in his ear after a few moments, making him feel wondrously tingly inside.

"Me. You have me. It's not much, I know. Just remember what I said at the train station. I won't let anything happen to you. And I meant it then. And I mean it now."

She remained silently hugging him for a time, her sobs gradually subsiding into deep breathing. "Thank you, Ron," she whispered.

He held her and stroked her hair until she pulled back.

"Sorry I woke you," she said.

"It's okay." It really was. It wasn't every night a pretty girl woke him up just to hug him.

"I tried to go to sleep, but I just couldn't. I kept thinking of your face after you came in tonight." She looked to Ron as if she might start crying again, but she held it in. "You were so white, Ron. I've never seen you like that. Not even at the Ministry."

"Well, I was all crazy and out of control then," he said guiltily.

"I know. But tonight you just came back different. Like you weren't my friend Ron anymore. Like I'd lost a piece of you already."

"I'm okay now, Hermione. I was just in shock, I think."

"Ron," she whispered, her eyes flicking down to the blanket, then back to meet his. "Can I please stay here tonight?"

Ron's stomach did a sort of back flip. "In bed you mean?" He blurted out.

She blushed and nodded. "I just don't want to wake up and find you're not here anymore."

Ron felt his heart aching at these words. He patted her hand. "I'm not going anywhere, remember?" He blushed and added, "but you're welcome to stay if you like."

She smiled shyly, took off her dressing gown to reveal blue and white striped cotton pajamas. Ron tried his best to keep from blushing redder.

He rolled back against the wall so as to make room and Hermione got into bed under the blanket but above the duvet.

"Comfy?" Ron asked as he reached over her and put out the lamp.

"Yes, thanks, Ron," she said.

He laid on his back and listened to her breathing beside him. It was like a dream come true. He felt a hand cover his and his stomach suddenly exploded with fiery butterflies. He had no idea how he was going to get back to sleep, but he didn't really care. Hermione Granger was in bed with him holding his hand!

"Goodnight, Ron," she whispered, squeezing his hand once and then letting go.

"'Night, Hermione."

With her hand gone his butterflies settled down gradually and he felt himself beginning to drift. He was nearly asleep when he heard her whisper.

"But if something _did_ happen to you, it would happen to me, too."


	9. Part Nine

Patronize

Part Eight

Ron woke up in the wee hours before dawn spreadeagled in the middle of his bed and very hot. He usually woke at about this time, his body in anticipation of being woken by the alarm clock anyway.

_Did I turn it off last night?_ He thought groggily. _Don't think I_ _did. _

He opened his eyes and went to kick off the second blanket and roll over to turn off the alarm clock, but something stopped him. Hermione. He'd forgotten in his sleepiness that she was staying with him. She was curled up into a small ball at the edge of the bed by his bedside table. He looked down at himself to see that he'd taken up all the room and she'd moved to the only unoccupied space.

_Merlin,_ he thought, _I'm a git, even in my sleep. _

Ron pulled the second blanket off himself, careful to not pull it away from Hermione as well, and lent over her and turned the clock off. He felt incredibly stiff and tired and sort of slumped back into his spot in the bed. Hermione murmured a little in her sleep and snuggled into her blanket as if she were cold, but didn't wake.

Ron couldn't help but smile as he doubled over the blanket he had shared with her and put it over her shoulders. She was so pretty when she slept with her hair all tousled. He felt the urge to stroke her cheek, but he held himself back.

He reclined back with his hands behind his head and closed his eyes; there were still a couple of good hours before dawn.

He had nearly dozed off again when he heard Hermione fidgeting and kicking the blankets. Ron's eyes snapped open; she was obviously having a nightmare.

"Get away, all of you...you can't have him," she mumbled.

Ron rolled onto his side and gripped her shoulder firmly and gently shook her.

"Hermione," he whispered, "wake up. You're having a nightmare."

She stopped thrashing almost immediately and went rigid. "'Mione, it's alright. It was just a bad dream."

He felt her posture soften. He withdrew his hand as she rolled over to face him. Ron thought he could see traces of tears in the moonlit room.

"Ron..." she sniffed.

"Yeah. I'm here. You're OK now."

Hermione nodded; she still looked half asleep.

"Go back to sleep, Hermione," Ron whispered softly, rolling onto his back and relaxing.

"You're still here," Hermione said sleepily.

"Told you I would be, 'Mione," Ron said with a yawn.

"_Really_ here," she said reaching out and patting him on the chest as if to prove that his presence was genuine.

Ron grinned to himself. "Yeah, really here," he echoed, patting the hand that rested on his chest.

"Good," she whispered as she burrowed against him, her head resting on his shoulder and her hand curling under his.

Ron Weasley took a sharp intake of breath as a siege of butterflies took over his stomach, then let it out slowly as Hermione's deep sleepy breathing began.

_If only I can remember this moment for the rest of my life, I'll be a happy man_, he thought sleepily, as soon, he too fell back to sleep with the girl of his dreams in his arms.

Ron woke to the noise of rustling and opened his eyes in time to see Hermione getting out of bed and into her dressing gown once more. She bustled to the curtains and opened them wide, flooding the room with sunlight.

"Aww, 'Mione," Ron mumbled, shielding his eyes with his arm. "Ow," he groaned aloud as the muscles in his arm smarted.

"Are you OK, Ron?" Hermione asked concernedly. "I thought you'd want to see the sun after last night."

"Yeah, well, I do. Just not when I'm trying to be asleep," he said, moving his arm back to his chest to look at her. He grimaced again as the pain lept through his muscles.

"What's wrong, Ron? Are you hurt?" She had obviously noticed his wince and knelt on the bed looking at him. She looked so worried that he couldn't bear to tell her how sore he was.

He was still lying on his back in bed, (Hermione must've been hugging him all night, he realized), but he felt as if he'd been lying on a concrete floor for weeks. Every part of him was stiff and riddled with aches and pains. He tried to sit up in bed, and fought another urge to groan.

Hermione was still watching him intently. "You_ are_ hurt, aren't you? Why didn't you say something last night?"

"It's nothing, Hermione. I'm not hurt."

"Well, Ron, you certainly look like you're in pain to me."

"Nah, just a bit of morning Spattergroit," said Ron with what he hoped was a disarming smile. It seemed to work as Hermione's frown disappeared and she smiled back.

"Well, I better get back to Ginny's room before I'm missed."

"Yeah, I guess you should. Though someone opened the door last night," Ron observed. "I distinctly remember it being shut last night after you came in."

Ron watched as Hermione's eyes darted to the door to confirm this statement. Her hands rose to her face as she stood and faced the doorway. "Oh, no..." she whispered.

"What's the matter?" Ron asked, puzzled at her behaviour.

"Someone opened the door, because they knew I was here in bed with you," she gasped.

"Um, yeah. That's pretty much what I said, isn't it?"

Hermione gave him a look which made him stop smiling. "What if someone thought...Well, what if someone got the wrong impression. What if we're in trouble?"

"I don't think we have anything to worry about Hermione. There's only one possibility, and he's not likely to make a fuss," Ron said, successfully sitting up in bed.

"What do you mean? There are seven other people in this house at the moment, Ron."

He grinned. It wasn't often that he was on top of something before she was.

"Well," he began, "let's see. First there's Ginny. If it were her, she'd probably drag you off to bed, or else she's climb in bed with us too. She used to do that all the time when she was younger and got scared. Then there's Fred and George...they would've woken up the house in glee." He counted to two on his fingers. "Likewise Mum would have roused the house, but not in a good way, probably. Fleur would've just left us alone. She's French," he nodded knowingly. "Then that leaves Bill and Dad, and you must remember that the person who left the door open would've had to have opened it first to check on me."

"So it was your Dad then?" Said Hermione, no less alarmed. "What if he thinks that we're, that I'm..." she trailed off.

Ron felt his smile waver at the sour look on Hermione's face that seemed to find the thought of being with him that sort of way utterly repellent.

"Don't worry about it, Hermione," he sighed, " he knows we're friends, and if he thinks anything else it just means that he'll take me aside for an extremely embarrassing talk. Nothing that you have to worry about. And don't worry, he won't tell Mum. He knows better than anyone what she can be like."

_Bloody nutters,_ thought Ron as he watched Hermione chat animatedly to Bill at the breakfast table. If Ron had been baffled by the actions of girls before, than he definitely was now.

It had been a week since she'd shared his bed after the dementor attack, a week, which had for Ron meant much confusion. Hermione seemed determined to not even look him in the face when there were other people around – and of course in the Weasley household there were _always_ people around.

When they were alone however, she was the total opposite. She'd always sit right next to him, even if all the furniture in the room was vacant, and on a couple of occasions he'd woken in the night and could have sworn that he could smell the scent of her shampoo lingering in his bedroom.

Ron felt totally out of his depth with this hot and cold treatment. He didn't know if Hermione wanted him to kiss her, or if she was still annoyed at him. Part of him wondered if she was embarrassed that his family might think there was something going on between them. This thought didn't console him in the least.

Occasionally he wondered if she might fancy Harry and not him, just because whenever she wanted to talk, it was never about something fun, or even something serious concerning the two of them. Most of the conversations they entered into were either about OWL results or about Harry. Ron cared about Harry very much, but it was getting a bit trite when Hermione asked his opinion constantly on how Harry must be coping, feeling, what he was doing, how the Dursley's were treating him, what toothpaste he was using! It was all getting a bit much for Ron...

Of course, there had been the universal decision to not tell Harry anything about the dementor attacks. He had enough on his plate without worrying that he was putting the Weasley family in danger. As it was, he was probably still trying to cope with the recent death of his godfather.

All in all, the Burrow had turned into a rather serious household with the twins moving out. Ron had a hard time getting used to it, and tried his best to deflate situations as his brothers had done. Luckily, Bill was on his side and the two of them had to defuse many a stand-off between Fleur Delacour and the Weasley women. Hermione also, Ron noted, held a grudge against Fleur. He happened to think she was very nice, though he still felt wary around her, least he get a jolt of Veela shot at him, like he had before the Yule Ball in fourth year.

Ron was very pleased to arrive at the breakfast table one morning to be told that Harry had turned up in the night. It was a like a great weight had been removed from Ron's shoulders as the dynamic between himself, Harry and Hermione went back to normal. He no longer found himself being ignored in general public by Hermione, though the very few times they were alone she did tend to sit close to him. Not that he minded this at all.

The last weeks of the holidays flew by quickly and it wasn't long until the trio found themselves aboard the Hogwart's express as it made it's way to the castle.

After their regular meeting in the Prefect's carriage, (minus Malfoy, Ron was pleased to note), they returned to join Harry who was sitting with Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. Ron still didn't know what to make of Luna. She seemed to know an awful lot about things he'd never even heard of, and not in the same way that Hermione did.

As the train journeyed onwards Harry and Neville were delivered an invitation to meet the new teacher, Professor Slughorn. Ron thought it awfully odd that they had been invited to something and himself and Hermione had not. Still, Ron thought, it would be nice to spend the last few hours of homework-free time with Hermione before she became tethered to the library.

It was a long time before Neville arrived back at their car; they were not far from Hogsmeade now.

"So what was Slughorn's meeting all about?" Ron asked, as he polished off another pumpkin pastie.

"Well," began Neville, "it's sort of a club, I think, for people who are really talented, or for people who have famous relatives."

_Hmph, _thought Ron, _no wonder I wasn't invited. Though if they were looking for brilliant people they missed one._ He glanced at Hermione.

"Where's Harry, Neville?" Hermione asked, looking up from the book she had been riffling through.

"I don't really know," replied Neville as he sat down next to Luna. "He just siad 'Later,' and disappeared."

Ron and Hermione exchanged looks: The invisibility cloak.

"But where's he got to?" Ron asked the car at large.

"Perhaps he does have a wrackspurt problem," said Luna dreamily as she leaned in a little too close to Ron so he felt he had to pull back.

"Wrackspurt? What the hell is _wrackspurt_?" said Ron.

"Never mind that," Hermione said, "I bet I know where he's gone."

"Where?" asked Ron, turning to look at her.

"I bet he's gone to spy on Malfoy. He seemed awfully interested to hear that he wasn't doing his Prefect's duties."

"Well, it _could_ have been a case of wrackspurt," nodded Luna, returning to the copy of the Quibbler that lay in her lap.

Ron spent the rest of the trip keeping an ear out for Harry and thinking of ways to get his Patronus working better. If he wanted to be in the 'Slugclub' then he'd have to get pretty good pretty bloody quick. _Who am I kidding, _he thought darkly, I_'ll never be **that** good. Though if Hermione's not in that club after our first week back than I'll eat my Chudley_ _Cannon's hat_. He hated to think of a club for the two of them; one in which he didn't have a hope of joining. He disliked the idea even more after he heard that Ginny had been at the meeting after Slughorn caught her hexing someone. _Well,_ he agreed, _Ginny was a pretty formidable witch when it came to cursing. _

By the time the train rolled up at Hogsmeade station Harry still hadn't returned. Ron wasn't too worried, as he knew Harry could take care of himself. How much trouble could he get into onto a train anyway? Hermione on the other hand was looking decidedly anxious.

"Look, Ron, there's Tonks," said Hermione, breaking him out of his reverie.

And it was, but not as he had remembered her. Her hair was brown and dull and her face looked sad and forlorn. She smiled briefly at them as she made her way up the platform.

"Hey Tonks," Ron said. "Didn't expect to see you here."

"Wotcher, Ron. Hermione. I've been posted here in Hogsmeade for the time being to give the school extra protection," she said in a voice that had only trace amounts of it's original pep.

"That's great, Tonks," beamed Hermione. "It'll be nice to have someone to visit on Hogsmeade weekends, won't it, Ron?"

Ron nodded, and a thought suddenly struck him. "Erm, Hermione, you and Neville go grab a carriage, I just want a word with Tonks. If you have a minute, of course," he added.

"No worries Ron," smiled Tonks wanly. "What can I do you for?"

Ron waited until Hermione was out of earshot before he began. "Erm, I wondered if you could help me? I'm training to develop my Patronus Charm. I can sort of do it now, but it's not very strong, and with you being an Auror and everything, you'd know how to do one, right?"

"Well, yes," admitted Tonks, "I can, but I thought you covered this in your DA classes last year? Hermione told me all about her otter Patronus last time I saw you all."

'Yeah, well, she's much better than I am," said Ron. _At everything, _he added mentally. "But I'm only just getting the hang of it. I've had Fred and George helping me and I've been practicing all summer. I asked Professor Lupin to help me, but he said he was busy with the, well, you know..." he trailed off.

Tonks' face seemed to change slightly at the mention of Lupin, it was a tiny change, Ron noticed, but one that seemed to lighten her sad face slightly. She was obviously still grieving over the death of her cousin, and Lupin reminded her of this, he assumed.

"Well, I don't know how much time I can give you," Tonks began. "But I'll do my best."

"That'd be really great, Tonks," said Ron appreciatively. "Even if it's just a lesson or two. It's really important. Next time there are Death Eaters around I'm going to be more than something for them to just trip over." He gritted his teeth.

"You bet," grinned Tonks in a dark face matching his own. "Let me know by owl when you can get out of school, and I'll come and meet you at one of the passageways – yes, Remus told me about the secret passages," grinned Tonks as Ron's ears went pink.

"Great. Thanks, Tonks," Ron said turning to leave the platform. "Oh, by the way, Harry might be on the train somewhere under his invisibility cloak. We haven't seen him for a while. I guess he could have gotten off though," he added. "Well, bye then."

Ron's first Patronus Charm lesson came within the first week of term. After Harry had gone to see Dumbledore, Hermione and himself had spoken for a while about the mysterious Half-Blood Prince. Although Ron had enjoyed seeing Harry win one over against the Slytherins, and even Hermione for once in potions, the novelty was now beginning to wear thin. He couldn't help but be jealous of Harry. After all, how many other people did he know that owned a magic map, an invisibility cloak and now a book that had all the answers?

"And of course," he muttered to Hermione, "I can't read the writing very well anyway."

"That's not the point, Ron," Hermione snapped. "Even if you could understand the script, you still shouldn't be using the instruction. What if it's wrong? What if it's dangerous? Anyone could have written that!"

"Yeah, I guess," agreed Ron reluctantly. "It would still be nice to do well for a change." He shot another glance at Hermione's essay on 'The Principals of Re-Materialization', but she caught him and turned the page over.

"Honestly, Ron, all you need to do is study a bit harder," she sighed.

"Well, I figure you do enough study for all three of us," Ron grinned disarmingly.

Hermione smiled back, though not as enthusiastically as he would have liked. It was so great to have ordinary Hermione back, and even sitting here with her in the Common Room talking about books and homework was a fair price to pay for her company.

"Harry won't be back for a while, so I'm going to fact check my essay one last time in the Library. Maybe you should think about coming too," she added, standing up and giving him a very McGonagall-esque look down her nose.

"Nah, I might go visit Dobby. He's probably missed us over the holidays."

"You just want another dessert," Hermione said reproachfully.

Ron grinned. He loved how she could see right through him sometimes. "Yeah, I could go another spotted dick."

"Well, say hi to Dobby and Winky for me, won't you? And be nice to Kreacher if you see him."

Ron nodded, and thought that if he saw Kreacher he'd give him a kick in the pants as soon as be nice. Hermione left the room and Ron leaned back in his chair._ It's not really that_ _late_, he thought. _Perhaps I should see if Tonks is free now?_

Tonks had sent Pigwidegeon back almost immediately and Ron wasted no time in chucking his jacket on and borrowing the Marauder's Map from Harry's trunk. It wouldn't do to be caught by Snape exciting the castle.

Ron was met by Tonks as promised as he clambered out of the back door of Honeyduke's. She still looked pale and wan and just...plain Ron noticed as she lead him to her small flat nearby.

It was sparsely furnished but not unpleasant. It was certainly a step up from Grimmauld Place at any rate. The lesson itself lasted about an hour and a half, as Tonks talked him through the technical side of conjuring a Patronus Charm.

Ron demonstrated what he could do, and felt shame wash over him as Tonks grinned at his small and utterly cute Patronus. He felt like such an arse. Why couldn't he have something manly like an eagle or a tiger, instead of a bloody puppy?

Thankfully Tonks didn't say anything about it, and continued with the lesson. At the end Ron had a rudimentary idea of how to send a message by Patronus and felt quite pleased with himself. Still, he felt somehow quite depressed as he took leave of Tonks and headed back through the castle to Gryffindor Tower. What had happened to her? Sure, Sirius was dead and it was awful, but she'd only just met him, really. There was something in her demeanor that he found oddly familiar, but Ron just couldn't place his finger on it.


	10. Part Ten

Patronize

Part Nine

Time seemed to run away from Ron Weasley as he tried valiantly to keep his head above water in class, study in his free periods, (_free?Who are they kidding?_), and practice his Patronus whenever he could. Usually in unlikely places at odd hours like the Prefect's bathroom and a particularly old and discarded armory that Nearly Headless Nick had shown him one night.

Nevertheless Ron felt as if he were loosing purchase in lessons – he still couldn't get his head around the Aguamenti charm and non-verbal spells were much harder than they looked. It hit him as quite a surprise when he woke up one morning to the realization that it was the day of the Quidditch team tryouts.

Last year had been a very mixed blessing for Ron. It was either all on and the glory was his, or it was awful. Worse than awful; it had been dreadful, depressing and plain embarrassing. He wondered vaguely if this year would be any different as he sat with Harry and Hermione in the Great Hall at breakfast.

Hermione was determined to take away more hours of their day by planning to visit Hagrid. Ron had a big soft for Hagrid, but he was a bit nervous about the giant half-brother that Harry and Hermione had told him about. He'd met too many of Hagrid's _friends_. A shiver went down his spine as he thought of the giant spider, Aragog.

His focus snapped back to Hermione when he heard her tell Harry that he was popular. Ron shook his head in disbelief. Surely he'd misheard her? Not just popular, she went on, but also interesting and fanciable! Ron very nearly choked on the kipper he was eating.

At least Harry had the grace to look utterly embarrassed. He was looking everywhere but at Hermione. The ceiling in particular seemed to hold most of his attention as Hermione rattled on about him being the 'Chosen One' in the eyes of the Daily Prophet reading world. All Ron could stare at was Hermione – and yet she went on.

_I'm right bloody here, Hermione!_ Ron thought, feeling more than ever like a plate of chopped liver. _Harry's not the center of the universe, you know!_

"_And _you've been through all that persecution from the Ministry when they were trying to make out you were unstable and a liar. You can still see the marks where that evil woman made you write with your own blood, but you stuck to your story anyway..."

"You can still see where those brains got hold of me in the Ministry, look," said Ron in an effort to sway her attention. He even began to pull up his sleeves to prove it, but Hermione ignored him and went on.

"And it doesn't hurt that you've grown about a foot over the summer, either."

"I'm tall," Ron pointed out to no one. Hermione and Harry had both been distracted by the appearance of the morning post owls.

_Hmph_, thought Ron as they left the breakfast table and headed towards the Quidditch pitch, _I've _always_ been bloody tall, but apparently not tall enough to be bloody noticeable to Miss. Hermione Granger. And I'm **still **taller than Harry. What's she on about?_

He realized then that he was probably jealous. It wasn't the same as it had been with Viktor Krum. That bordered on rivalry. This was just plain jealousy. _Why didn't_ _Hermione ever call **him** 'fanciable'? Bloody Harry gets everything_, he thought petulantly, then bit his lip in shame and distracted himself with the idea of Dumbledore being absent from school so often.

Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown passed them in one of the corridors and he distinctly saw Lavender flash a smile at him as they passed. Ron wasn't too sure what to do. He'd never really had someone smile at him like _that_ before. He tried a hesitant smile in return and then the moment was gone.

_That's new,_ he thought with a slight spring in his step. _Perhaps Harry's not the only one somewhat fanciable after all. _

The pitch was alive with the giggles of many girls and strictly non-Quidditch players. It took some time for Harry to cull those people who were bought there by curiosity rather than the drive to be on the team. All of this time waiting wasn't good for Ron. He always felt nervy when it came to standing about waiting, especially when he had to watch other people try for Keeper.

_Especially that big goon, McLaggen,_ Ron mused as his stomach churned and he felt decidedly ill. _Thank Merlin he screwed up that last save. Looks pretty pissed about it too._

McLaggen looked fit to bite as he touched down and Ron dragged himself onto his Cleansweep Eleven.

"Good luck," called a shrill voice from behind him._ That's not Hermione,_ he thought, looking around. It was Lavender Brown.

He shook his head free of confusion and soared into the sky to his goalposts. Ron held on to his broom grimly and went for gold. He saved all five attempts to steal goal, even a particularly sneaky one that Ginny sent him. All in all, he was rather pleased with himself when he touched ground once more.

He was even more ecstatic when Hermione ran up to him and told him he had done brilliantly. She even went as far as to call him magnificent as he ranted with glee about his saves. He felt like he'd really deserved his place on the team for once, and Hermione's praise was just icing on the cake.

Things felt as if they were coming up Weasley – he'd earned the right to be Gryffindor Quidditch Keeper, Hermione had praised him, he'd received a smile from a pretty girl and he'd luckily avoided feeding disgusting grubs to Aragog and his hordes of terrifying many-legged children. All this was about to change.

Despite a delicious roast beef that melted in his mouth, dinner turned into a rather sour affair for Ron. The trio had no sooner reached the dinner table when Professor Slughorn appeared in his evening best. He wasted no time in inviting first Harry and then Hermione to a private supper in his quarters. Slughorn didn't so much as acknowledge Ron's prescence.

_I knew this would happen,_ thought Ron bitterly. _This is what always happens to me. Everyone else gets noticed and I get stuck eating supper in the kitchens with Dobby and Winky. Can't blame them though. Harry is great, and Hermione, well, Hermione's nigh bloody perfect. Me? I'm just a big goofy idiot who's worth nothing. I'm even outdone by my own stupid family, hell, even Fred and George are a success! _

He ate the rest of his dinner in stony silence. Hermione and Harry joked with Neville and pointedly ignored him, though he felt Hermione pat him on the knee as soon as Slughorn had left, and it was this contact that stopped him from unleashing his temper on the whole table. He figured their reaction to him was because they knew his temper too well by now to even try reasoning with him. _Fine,_ he thought as he crammed some trifle into his mouth._ I don't want to talk to those over achievers anyway. _

The bitterness remained when they settled in the Common Room amidst chattering and laughing students. Each chuckle felt like a personal assault to Ron, as if they knew that his best friends and little sister had become part of the elite and he was plain old nothing Ron Weasley. He crossed his arms and stared determinedly at the ceiling, making a point of ignoring Hermione's reading of the Evening Prophet. How dare she take pity on him by patting his knee at dinner! _Though it was kind of nice;_ but he immediately banished the thought and looked around the room for a new distraction.

His attention was caught by Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil for the second time that day. They were sitting in the corner beside the staircase giggling, and every now and then Lavender would shoot him a look. Not a smile exactly, like he'd received in the corridor; more of the sort of look that might accompany a wink. Ron scowled back. He didn't want anyone's pity. This made Lavender giggle even more and whisper to Parvati. _Are **all** girls_ _bloody mental?_ Ron pondered briefly as he heard Harry turn the conversation round to Malfoy.

"Oh, drop it, Harry," he snapped. He'd had enough already of Harry's growing obsession with Malfoy. Sure, he was a bad egg, but did he have to suspect him at _every_ turn?

"Listen, it's not my fault Slughorn invited Hermione and me to his stupid party, neither of us wanted to go, you know!' Harry shot back.

_Yeah, right,_ thought Ron angrily_f . If you'd not wanted to go you would have said_ _'no' flat out. And way to rub my face in it, Potter. We weren't even bloody talking about the stupid party._

"Well, as I'm not invited to any parties," Ron grumbled as he got out of his chair, "I'm going to bed." He made a point of stomping up the stairs and totally ignored the commissary look that Hermione gave him.

When he reached the boys' dormitory he flung open the curtains of his bed and went to flop down on top of it, but the owl who had been pecking and kneading his pillow to shreds hooted at him in warning.

"What the hell have you done to my pillow?" Snapped Ron acidly as he pulled his ripped and molting pillow away from the small barn owl. "Who're you from anyway?"

The owl fluttered from the head of the bed and landed on Ron's arm, lifting one leg to present it's message. Ron untied the message, read it, scribbled something on the back and sent the owl back out the open window.

Ron found Tonks in a much better mood than she had been their last lesson. Her hair was still mousy and plain, but a smile lit up her face. Ron's mood was no less irritable, but he was determined to keep up his Patronus work regardless.

"What are you so miserable about, Ron?" She asked him after a fairly pathetic attempt at a Patronus. "You know emotions can play a large role in how your Patronus fares, don't you?"

Ron grunted in acknowledgment and tried again. "Expecto Patronum..." A silver echo of a small dog shimmered and disappeared. "Why can't I have a proper bloody Patronus?" He growled.

"Like I said," Tonks went on, "if you are in a more positive mood it'll be better."

"No it won't," snapped Ron. "It'll still be a little runt of a dog. It's just rubbish, like everything else in my life."

"Well," sighed Tonks, "I'm afraid there's naught we can do about what your Patronus _is_." Her smile had dropped. "You may find that it'll change in time, though. They do sometimes. They reflect sort of what's happening in your life. What you need most to protect you. Often they change after a big event..."

Ron stared at her. She'd gone from chipper to miserable in about two minutes. "Sorry, Tonks. Just had a bad day, that's all. Didn't mean to take it out on you."

She smiled weakly. "That's OK, Ron. I have those days too. Quite a lot actually."

Ron felt positively awful and tried to remind her of whatever had made her happy before he'd got there and ruined it with his big stupid mouth. "Something good happened to you today, though right? Last two times I've seen you you've looked kind of sad," he stumbled, hoping this wasn't going to make things worse.

Tonks smiled weakly and the sparkle in her eyes returned. "Yes," she said. "I had a pretty good day. Today I got a letter."

"Oh," said Ron trying to imagine what could be so awfully exciting about a letter, "that's good?"

"Yeah," said Tonks, looking wistfully out the window. "It was better than good. Now, let's see a proper Patronus shall we?"

There was something in her smile that reminded him how he had felt when Hermione had sent him letters over the summer. Even though they were fairly uninteresting, they were from her, and that's what had mattered to him. That she had thought of him enough to write.

"Sure," agreed Ron. He experienced the feeling of getting a letter as Tonks had done. He thought of Hermione telling him he was magnificent as he stood glowing on the Quidditch pitch after being made Keeper. Most of all he thought of Hermione has she slept in his arms next to him. "Expecto Patronum!"

A blinding light appeared from his wand, causing both himself and Tonks to shield their eyes as a brilliant silver dog lept forth and circled the living room of the small flat.

"Wow, Ron," breathed Tonks as she watched the beautiful dog caper about her. "That's really, really good."

"Yeah," laughed Ron as he squinted against the light the terrier gave off.

"Seems to me your day wasn't that bad after all, was it?" Smirked Tonks.

"No," Ron grinned back. "Not as bad as I thought."

_Thanks to JK for writing the lines I pinched. I hope I didn't butcher their meanings too much. :S_

_Oh, and Dragon Scales 13; in answer to your question, Spotted Dick is a delicious Scottish desert, not unlike steam pudding with fruit in. (Hence the spots). ;)_


	11. Part 11

Patronize

Part Ten

_Mustn't stare, _Ron Weasley berated himself as he sat with Harry and Hermione in the Common Room. He was meant to be doing his homework, but the only thing that he was able to study was Hermione's face as she poured over her many books. She was so focused and very pretty with ringlets of her hair falling down around her face. Her lips pursed as she moved her index finger down a particularly long passage. Ron wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips...He shook his head of the thought and returned his gaze to his school books where he managed to do nothing but stare blankly at the letters on the page.

There was so much that filled his head these days that it felt like there was no room for classwork. The first Quidditch game of the season was only days away now, Katie Bell had been cursed two days before in Hogsmeade, his Patronus lessons were coming along well, infrequent though they were, and he was still busy harbouring deep resentment at Slughorn for not noticing he was alive.

_And Hermione's so beautiful,_ he thought, as he caught himself staring at her for the seventh time that night. He forced himself to look away and rested his head on his potions book with his eyes shut.

"Alright, Ron?" Harry asked from his seat beside the fire. He was flicking through the Half-Blood Prince's potions book for more spells like the one that had rudely awakened Ron several mornings ago.

"Yeah," mumbled Ron.

"You look really tired, Ron," said Hermione glancing up from her pile of books for the first time since they'd settled into homework.

"I s'pose," said Ron non-committally.

"You haven't been awake all night worrying about Quidditch again, have you?"

_Not Quidditch,_ he thought with a smirk. He raised his head from his books and added, "just worried about Katie, I guess."

Hermione nodded. "I'm sure she'll be OK at St. Mungo's."

"Yeah. I know. It's just awful, what happened to her."

"I still reckon it was Malfoy," growled Harry.

"Now, Harry, Professor McGonagall gave him a perfectly good alibi," said Hermione curtly.

"Well, he still could've gotten someone to plant it for him," grumbled Harry.

The three of them went silent for a while before Hermione sighed and began packing up her books.

"Where are you off to?" said Ron glancing at his watch. "It's almost eight. The library will be nearly closed by the time you get there."

"I'm not going to the library," she said, pointedly concentrating on putting her Quills in her wooden pencil box. "Slughorn has another supper tonight."

Ron could feel a rain cloud forming over his head. "Oh," he managed in a gravelly voice. "Right."

"I forgot about that," said Harry getting out of his chair. "I'll walk you there if you like. I've got to be at Dumbledore's office at eight anyway."

"I'll just go put these upstairs," said Hermione, heading towards the staircase to the girls' dormitories. "I'll only be a minute."

Ron sat there watching her. His ears felt very hot. How had he forgotten that Hermione had another fancy supper to attend with McLaggen and Zambini and all those other gits?

"Sorry, mate," said Harry who had obviously noticed the downcast look on his face.

"It's fine," Ron grumbled. "I might go visit Pig or something."

"Say hi to Hedwig for me."

"Yeah. Will do."

"OK, Harry, let's get going," said Hermione reentering the Common Room. "See you later, Ron," she added with a small smile.

"Whatever," Ron grumbled as he stared into the fire to avoid her gaze.

"I'll smuggle you back a butterbeer," Hermione said as she patted him on the shoulder in passing.

"Cool," he said in a very unexcited voice. "See you."

A war waged in Ron's head as he made his way up to the Owlery with a bag of mixed Honeyduke's sweets under one arm and a scowl etched on his face.

_It's not her fault that she's brilliant – of course Slughorn was going to invite her into his stupid little elitist club. He'd be mad if he didn't. _

_But she doesn't have to go, does she? She could be just as brilliant and stay here with me. And Harry, _he added quickly.

_Isn't it great that she's outclassed Malfoy in the eyes of Slughorn though? He's a **Slytherin** and he still thinks Hermione's better than that snot-rag._

_Yeah, but Slughorn thinks McLaggen's good too, and he's a real wanker. _

_Doesn't Hermione deserve to do nice things like go to parties? She's bailed us out enough times, hasn't she? It must be nice for her to hang out with interesting people instead of boring old us. And it's not like she's at their mercy or anything. Gin's probably there too._

"Shaddup," Ron grumbled to himself, and a particularly blue blooded looking witch in a painting nearby huffed to herself about the rules of etiquette.

Pigwidgeon swooped down from his perch excitedly as Ron entered the Owlery.

"Settle down, you twit," mumbled Ron as the small scop's owl flew erratically about his head. "I need you to send this note to Tonks."

Pigwidgeon settled himself on Ron's arm as the note was tied to his small leg. He was literally trembling with excitement.

"Be real quick and I'll give you loads of treats," Ron said with a grin. As much as he complained about the little owl, he did found his enthusiasm very amusing. Pigwidgeon bobbed his small head in understanding and flew from the window, dropped from view, then reappeared further away and continued his ascent.

Ron looked around for Harry's snowy owl. "There you are, Hedwig," said Ron looking up into the rafters. "I've got some treats for you, too."

Hedwig swooped gracefully from her rafter and alighted on the windowsill next to Ron. She clicked her beak expectantly.

"Harry says 'hi'," said Ron conversationally as he lobbed the owl a treat. "But he had to go see Dumbledore again tonight."

Ron settled himself on the windowsill beside Hedwig and to pass the time filled her in about the oncoming Quidditch match, about his envy of his sister and other mundane things. He didn't really know why he was telling all this to a bird, but she didn't seem to mind as long as he sporadically gave her more treats. He even wondered if she could understand some of what she was saying, as she tended to hoot softly or bob her head in the appropriate places.

In about ten minutes Pigwideon flew through the window and affected a skittery, clumsy landing on the windowsill between Ron and Hedwig. Hedwig ruffled her feathers and flew back to her space in the rafters.

"Stop jumping around and let's have the message." The small owl stopped moving and Ron unwrapped the note from his leg.

_Meet you in five._

_Tonks._

_Well, at least the nights not a total loss then, _Ron thought as he walked briskly down the tower to find the passage behind the One-Eyed Witch. As he excited the passage he was momentarily startled to be met by two friendly faces and not one.

"Wotcher, Ron."

"Hello, Tonks, Professor," said Ron.

"Just Remus, Ron," his old Dark Arts teacher smiled.

Ron felt himself almost bursting with questions. "Where've you been? How'd that happen?" Something certainly had happened to Remus Lupin. His face was gaunt and vertical scratches graced his left cheek.

"Nothing you need worry about," Remus said, deftly changing the subject. "Tonks tells me you are doing well with your corporeal Patronus."

"Yeah," said Ron proudly. "I'm getting there."

"I heard about the dementors at the Burrow as well," said Lupin in a lowered voice as they began walking in the direction of Tonks's flat. "Sounds like you handled yourself very well under the circumstances."

"I think he'll be much better prepared next time," Tonks added. Ron noticed that her face was fresh and bright and he wondered vaguely if this had something to do with Lupin being there.

"Hope so," Ron muttered. "If there is a next time."

Lupin sighed. "All of us hope there won't be, but the odds are against it."

"Enough of that sort of talk," Tonks chirped, patting Lupin on the arm. "Remus's come to Hogsmeade for a couple of days and when I got your owl he agreed to help teach you tonight, Ron."

"Brilliant," said Ron. What better tutors could he get than from a Dark Arts teacher and an Auror?

"Thought we'd pop up to the Shrieking Shack. Hope you don't mind going up there after last time," Lupin added. "I'm not too fond of it myself, but it will be the perfect place to practice tonight."

"Do you have a boggart or something?" asked Ron eagerly, remembering what Harry told him of his lessons with Lupin.

"Well, no. One doesn't carry them around in one's pockets, you know," grinned Lupin with a nod at Tonks. The smile on his face seemed to totally rearrange it from gaunt to friendly with a hint of faded good looks.

"Actually, Ron," said Tonks, turning her attention from Lupin to himself, "_I _ have a wee something for you, but first we're going to practice sending messages."

"Excellent," breathed Ron. "Oh, before I forget, Tonks, this is for you." He held out the bag of Honeyduke's sweets. "To says thanks for ...you know, everything. Didn't know what ones you like best, so I just got a mixed bag."

"Thanks, Ron. That was very sweet of you," smiled Tonks warmly as she took the bag.

Ron could feel his ears blushing. He wasn't used to being called sweet. Ron shifted his eyes in front of him and continued walking. He distinctly thought he heard a chuckle, and to his surprise he realized it was Lupin. Ron couldn't remember Lupin ever _chuckling._ He wasn't sure he'd even heard him laugh before. He had always been the most calm, collected and altogether conservative person he'd ever met.

"I'll apparate ahead and meet you boys at the Shrieking Shack then," grinned Tonks. "It'll be a good chance for you to practice, too, Ron. Plus I need to set up."

"Set up?" asked Ron to the swirl of dust that replaced the form of Tonks.

"Tonks and I thought you could give message sending a try. We're still about twenty minutes walk from the Shrieking Shack, so it's a reasonable distance."

"What's she setting up, though?" pursued Ron.

"All in good time," Lupin grinned.

_What's with everyone tonight?_ thought Ron. _Usually Lupin has that melancholy streak and lately Tonks has been just miserable, and now they are both giving me conspirational grins and all sorts._

"Are you going to be in Hogsmeade for long?" Ron asked his former teacher.

"Sadly no. A couple of days at best."

"Well, I think Tonks is glad you're here to visit. She's been looking really miserable lately."

Lupin looked thoughtful but said nothing to this as they continued walking through the outer streets of Hogsmeade.

"So, Ron, how's Harry coping this year... With everything," began Lupin in a soft low voice.

Ron didn't really know how to answer this question. There was so much going on with Harry. He was obsessed with Malfoy, he was on the receiving end of a lot of attention from Professor Slughorn who eyed him as he became Young Potion's Master of the Year due to a random old book he'd found, and on top of it all he was Quidditch captain.

"He's doing alright." Lupin glanced at him, as if waiting for more. "He's keeping himself busy. We have tons of homework this year and he's Quidditch captain now too. Our first game is this weekend. Actually, you should try and stay a couple of days so you can come see it. Harry would really like to see you, y'know."

Lupin smiled wearily and said, "I wish I could, Ron, but unfortunately I really must be getting back in a couple of days."

"Back where?" asked Ron again, hoping for a scrap of news from the Order.

"You know I can't tell you that. And please don't tell Harry you saw me. I wouldn't want him to think I didn't have the inclination to come see him when I had the chance."

"But you _do_ have the chance. You could pop into Hogwarts tomorrow or something. I'm sure Slughorn wouldn't mind him being pulled out of class for a bit. He loves him," Ron rolled his eyes.

"Does he now?" smirked Lupin. "Not a surprise really. Slughorn's has always had a soft spot for the more famous students."

"It's not just that," Ron went on. "Harry's found this Potions book that has lots of tips and stuff on how to get potions right. So he's doing really well. Even better than Hermione, if you can imagine it," he grinned.

"Very curious," muttered Lupin under his breath. "Well, in any case," he went on at normal speaking volume, "please don't tell Harry I was here. I'm in Hogsmeade on _special_ business that couldn't afford to wait, but it would be best for people not to know where I am or that I've been here."

"Oh. OK," conceded Ron lapsing into silence. _What is in Hogsmeade that Lupin couldn't get in London?_

When they reached the fence at the edge of a cul-de-sac that afforded a view of the Shrieking Shack they stopped.

"Right then," said Lupin, turning to face Ron. "I believe Tonks has taken you through the theory of sending a message by Patronus, but you've not really tried it. Is that correct?"

"Yeah. So I just need to focus on what I want to send and then I say the charm, right?"

"Yes. It's very important to imagine the words in your head, otherwise the message at the other end may be garbled or misspelled. In the case of sending classified information, codes or addresses, this could be disastrous."

"Right," agreed Ron. "Shall I give it a go?"

"Of course," smiled Lupin. "Just think of a message, experience it in your head, then focus on the receiver and say the charm."

"This is going to be one of those 'sounds easier than it is' things, isn't it?"

"It's true, some wizards have never had the focus to perfect this skill, but I've heard from Harry that you're very good at chess. Just use the same level of concentration."

Ron nodded, and closed his eyes, thinking of a message to send.

He imagined the feel of Hermione's head on his shoulder and his arm around her as they had slept that night in the Burrow. Immediately he felt tingly inside. He peaked through his eyelids to the Shrieking Shack in the distance. He closed them again and thought of Tonks standing outside it. Ron focused on a short message, held out his wand and yelled.

"Expecto Patronum!" His Patronus issued from his wand and lept off into the distance.

"That looks very good, Ron," said Lupin, beaming. "Your Patronus has a lot of magical energy."

"Thanks," Ron replied as he wiped his brow of sweat.

"We'd better keep walking, else we'll be out all night," suggested Lupin.

They had been walking perhaps five minutes when a great four legged shining beast appeared from the night.

"Is that Tonks's?" asked Ron, amazed. "It's massive." Ron looked at Lupin who seemed just as surprised as himself.

"Yes, well," struggled Lupin as he stared at the Patronus. "Take the message from it."

Ron reached out his hand to the glimmering beast that was beginning to loose it's opacity and felt a warm bit of parchment fall in his hand, and then the Patronus vanished. He opened the folded piece of parchment and read:

_They do not! The Chudley Cannons haven't won a match since 1892! _

"Hmph," grumbled Ron as he screwed up the note and pushed it deep into his pocket. Lupin rubbed his chin thoughtfully before suggesting that Ron should practice sending a message back to Tonks on behalf of someone else.

It was much harder to send the message Lupin related to him, especially as he didn't understand the meaning too well, but his Patronus was quick to oblige and swept off into the night. It returned shortly afterwards with a message that made Lupin smile to himself.

Ron shivered as they reached the Shrieking Shack, the last time he had been inside it he had stood in front of Harry and Hermione and faced an angry and deranged looking Sirius Black. This thought vanished as he saw Tonks stand up from the rickety stair on which she had been waiting and nearly loose her balance as she came and met them.

"That was great Patronus work, Ron," she told him warmly. "Are you ready for a bit of a challenge, then?"

"Erm, yeah," answered Ron warily. If it wasn't a boggart, what did she have in mind?

"Well, I was scouting around the outskirts of Hogsmeade the other day and I came across something that I thought would be a good test for you. Don't worry, it's nothing too dangerous, and you can just send up red sparks if you get in trouble."

"It's not an acromantula, is it?" asked Ron, horrified.

"No," smiled Lupin. Gesturing to the stairs. "But be sure to keep your guard up."

"Right," said Ron stepping up onto the creaky staircase that led into the Shrieking Shack. He'd never entered this way before. There was quite a climb through oddly shaped halls and staircases till he entered the main room. It was very dark and he fancied he heard something skittering around on the old floorboards. He lit his wand and looked about himself cautiously.

A cackling laugh was added to the sound of small feet. There was definitely something in here with him. He turned around and aimed his wand beam to the floor and around the deformed skirting boards. He could see footprints in the dust but no sign of anything yet.

Ron's heart hammered in his chest as he heard the awful laugh again. _At least I know it's_ _not a dementor this time,_ he thought soberly. He had just decided to back himself into a wall so as to protect his back when something hard connected to the back of his knee and he slumped to the floor on his hands and knees in pain.

"Shit," Ron muttered, "that bloody hurt." He looked through the fringe of his hair for the attacker, but only peals of manic laughter met his senses. He tried to get to his feet, his left leg, which had been broken years before in this very room was agony. Ron had almost straightened himself to full height when something landed on his back, he spun swiftly around to knock whatever it was to the ground. Aiming his wand his beam of light found the dwarf-like Red Cap in seconds. A rusty looking axe lay near it's pawing fingers as it sought it's weapon in the glare of the light.

Ron remembered then, that Red Caps lived mostly underground or in dark places and liked to bludgeon people that entered old battle fields. He felt a bit sick to think that that rusty axe was meant for his head.

He backed away from the Red Cap as it got to it's bandy legged feet. He tried to keep his band of light on the little gruesome creature, but it was very fast and soon had vanished, though he could hear it still within the room.

_Right,_ thought Ron, _time to get rid of this thing. If I can't see it to hex it, I'll have to hope my Patronus can get it. _

He shuffled against the wall, so as to protect his back – he didn't think his leg could withstand another quick recovery or fall. "Expecto Patronum!"

Ron shielded his eyes as the blinding glow of his patronus lit up the room. The Red Cap started screaming in a shrill voice, and Ron peaked to see that it was writhing in a corner close to him with it's knarled hands over it's eyes.

"Get rid of it," Ron urged his Patronus. It looked up at him, then lept at the Red Cap which vanished in a puff of foul smelling smoke. Ron smiled as his Patronus evaporated into night. "Piece of cake."

His smugness vanished as he tried to climb down the stairs with his injured leg in the near darkness and was very glad to be outside again in the cool star lit night.

"Sounds like it went well in there," said Tonks with a grin. "I found him in the belfry of the small clock tower up the road."

"Lucky you," grimaced Ron as he put weight on his sore knee.

"You alright there, Ron?" asked Lupin, his eyes flicking to Ron's leg.

"Yeah, it's just sore. The little git hit me on the back of the leg with the blunt end of his axe."

"Don't worry, Ron," said Tonks fishing about in her cloak, "we came prepared." She bought out a small porcelain jar of ointment. "Just pop some of that on now and then again before you go to bed and you'll be fine by morning."

"Cheers," said Ron.

He said goodbye to Tonks and Lupin and began making his way back through the passage to Hogwarts. He felt very good about his excursion. _Finally, I'm learning_ _something and it's starting to sink in._ He also felt pretty good about the way he hadn't panicked in the Shrieking Shack.

His progress was slow but not too painful as he hobbled his way down towards the staircase that lead up to Gryffindor Tower.

"Oh, hello Ronald," said a vague voice to his left as Luna Lovegood stepped out of a small passage way and fell into stride beside him.

"Hi Luna. You're up late," said Ron glancing at his watch. "It's nearly eleven thirty. You should've been in your Common Room ages ago."

"Oh, well, you don't mind do you?" she said confidentially.

Ron began to get the bizarre feeling he always got when he spoke to Luna – that of loosing purchase on reality. He often had no clue what she was on about.

"Erm..."

"It must be nice to be a Prefect," she went on, and Ron grasped the meaning of her last sentence. "I like walking about at night. It's like a secret world." She winked at him emphatically.

"Yeah, I guess."

"I used to really fancy you last year, did you know?" she said matter of factly as if talking about the weather.

Ron didn't have an answer for that one. Luna had fancied him? _Someone_ had fancied him?

"You are very funny," she continued in her dreamy voice, "and you have a nice smile. Care for some coconut ice?" She bought out a small paper bag of coconut ices from a handbag she was carrying. Ron noticed it was decorated with pinned on leaves and acorns.

"Erm, thanks, Luna," said Ron reaching in for a pink coconut ice.

"But you can be very mean. Especially to your friends. Does Hermione know?"

"Eh?" said Ron, finding it hard to keep up. "Does she know that I'm a prat? Yeah, I'm sure she does." He grinned at Luna.

"No, does Hermione know you love her?" asked Luna stopping to look at him.

Ron stopped walking and stared back, his mouth opening and closing, his mind choosing not to supply him with any words at all.

"You probably should tell her," Luna nodded sagely as she continued walking again.

"But, I don't..erm..who told you that?" stuttered Ron, catching up to her.

"To thine own self be true," Luna said in a commanding voice that filled the corridor.

"Shh!" Ron hissed. "You'll get Snape out here."

"It's written all over your face, you know," nodded Luna, completely ignoring him.

Ron felt dumbstruck.

"You should do something about it, or else you'll attract a lot of lint."

"What?"

"Your body gives out currents of energy. Muggles call it electricity or Chakra, but it's all the same. The energy centres around the heart, and when you're in love, your heart has more energy. And this energy can attract a lot of lint."

Ron felt like he was drowning in a sea of random facts.

"Well, I best be going," said Luna as they reached a fork in the corridor. "I need to go practice the charms Professor Flitwick just taught me. I'm doing some extras this year."

"Does he give private lessons?" Ron asked, determined to have a normal conversation with Luna, no matter how brief.

"Oh yes," she beamed. "He's a very good teacher, don't you think, and his ears are very cute."

Ron wasn't so sure about that, but he nodded and kept listening.

"He gets lonely during the week without his family and fills his evenings in with tutoring. He showed me pictures. They're really cute too."

"Erm, who are?" Ron asked tentatively.

"His wife and children."

For some reason Ron had never thought of the teachers at Hogwarts as having families. He certainly couldn't imagine Snape having children, he could torture his students for free.

"Isn't Flitwick really old?" asked Ron bluntly.

"They are grown up children," nodded Luna. "Here, hold out your hand."

Ron did so, whilst wondering how grown up Professor Flitwick's children could possibly be.

"There," beamed Luna, closing his large hand around what felt like a sticky mass.

"Night then," she whispered and turned from him and set off up the steps to the Ravenclaw Common Room.

Ron opened his hands to reveal a sticky coconut ice molded into a heart shape. An 'H' was etched into the surface of the ice.

By the time Ron reached the Gryffindor Common Room it was nearly midnight. He couldn't wait to fall into bed. His leg and back were aching and he felt tired and drained from both the night's activities and trying to get around the strange musings of Luna Lovegood.

Ron was just about to hobble up the boys' staircase when he noticed that Hermione was sitting by the fire in the armchair he usually coveted. On closer inspection he saw that she had fallen asleep waiting for him, a bottle of butterbeer leant against her curled up feet. His homework was strewn all over the table where he'd left it in his foul mood. _She must've thought I was coming back to finish it,_ he thought guiltily.

He wondered whether to leave her there, but decided that if it was him fallen asleep in a chair he'd preferred to be woken up so as to go to sleep in a real bed.

Ron knelt down in front of the armchair, his knee smarting, and just looked at her. Her breathing was even and her right cheek was slightly flushed from the heat of the fire. Her hands were folded loosely across her chest and her head rested on one of the armrests. Some of her hair was falling across her face and the urge to gently pull it back behind her ear was nearly irresistible.

"Hermione," he whispered. "Time to go to bed." Her eyelashes fluttered but she barely stirred. "'Mione, wake up," he said in a soft voice just louder than a whisper.

"What is it, Ron?" she mumbled back, obviously asleep.

Ron blushed. Was his voice that familiar to her, even in her sleep? "'Mione, it's time to go to bed..."

"We are in bed, Ron. Go back to sleep. It can't be time to get up," she mumbled, bringing one arm across her face as if to block his words.

_We?_ Ron's mind reeled, but he swallowed down the thought and reached out and gently shook her shoulder.

"Hermione, wake up. You can't sleep here all night."

"What is it?" said Hermione groggily as she opened her eyes at last. "What's happened?"

"Nothing's happened," said Ron in what he hoped was a comforting voice. He hadn't meant to startle her. "I just came back and you were asleep. I thought you'd rather be woken than sleep here all night."

"Oh, right," she said, stretching her legs. The bottle of butterbeer thudded onto the plush burgundy carpet. "That's for you, Ron. I came to give it to you, but I must have fallen asleep by the time you came back. What is the time?"

"Just passed midnight," Ron replied as he managed to stand.

"Midnight? But I came back before ten! Where have you been all that time, Ron? And what happened to your leg?"

"Oh, nothing, I'm fine. I just went for a walk to the...erm...to the Owlery to see Pig and Hedwig. Then I met Luna Lovegood on the way back, and you know what _she's_ like."

"Yes," Hermione replied, somewhat coolly. "I do. Did you have a nice talk, then?"

Ron felt confused. She looked rather grumpy with him at the mention of Luna. She didn't know Luna had fancied him, did she? Though with Luna, she could have told anyone and everyone that she had at one point liked him.

"We talked about her extra classes mainly," Ron replied, hoping schoolwork was a safe bet. "And some other random stuff. I still think she's a bit of a nutter."

"What's in your left hand?" Hermione asked suspiciously with a nod to his fisted hand.

"Oh, that..want a coconut ice, Hermione?" He held out the squished pink heart to her. "Sorry, it's a bit melty and gooey," he added. He wasn't sure if she was disgusted or amused. He decided it was a mixture of both.

"Um...thanks, Ron. It was a really nice thought," she said, looking from the coconut ice that sat in the palm of his hand to his eyes with a sweet smile on her face. "But I don't think my parents would approve of all that sugar."

"Oh, right," said Ron blushing. He knew it had been a long shot.


End file.
